#(ergo the kind of things that should be left to those more intelligent (read: with more resources) than us)

[unheavenlycreatures]

With immense gentleness and sympathy: in the majority of cases, you not being taught how to do certain things does not mean that they are in some locked-away category of knowledge reserved for "the professionals/the naturals" that you are just incapable of ever achieving. This is the case for many things. Carpentry. Baking. Personal finance. Plumbing. Slam poetry. Car repair. Making friends. Computer programming. Viola-playing. Calculus. First aid/street medic know-how. Quantum Physics. Ballet. Bartending. Etc. Etc. Etc. If you are breathing, there is still time.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 10 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9)

 Nixon - April 1944

There was a fresh energy about Emily, a lightness in her step that had never been there before. Nixon first noticed it that Monday morning when she trotted into the intelligence room with a box of what looked like handicraft materials.

“Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her smile seemed brighter against her red lips.

“‘Morning,” Nixon responded. Emily looked particularly nice that day, Nixon noted. Her hair seemed bouncier, shinier, and her legs looked as nice as ever in those black heels and nylons. This was all objectively speaking of course. She was a new woman and her renewed energy showed magnetically. Nixon wasn’t the only one to notice either; he didn’t miss the creeping eyes of other staff members doing their best to sneak a glance at Emily.

“Nix,” the voice of Dick Winters interrupted his train of thought. Nixon dropped the report he was meant to be reading and looked up at his lean, copper haired friend.

“What?”

“We’re both needed in Colonel Sink’s office.”

“Right,” Nixon stood up from his desk, his chair shifting loudly behind him.

The remainder of the day passed in monotonous agony as Nixon was pulled from one meeting to another to trainings and back again with only quick trips back to the intelligence office to grab a file or notes. At each brief return, Nixon found Emily poised at her desk, dead focused on the slowly growing stack of aerial photos on her desk. Curiosity lined with envy poked at him. She seemed so invested in what she was doing surely it was more interesting than what he had been doing all day. He felt like a carrier pigeon bringing information and requests back and forth between intelligence staff, officers, and the war department. Where was the challenge in that?

By the time evening came all Nixon wanted was to drop into bed with a drink. He had promised Welsh that he would meet him for a drink, a promise he now regretted making. The man was quartered at a house in town and it was far too easy for him to slip away to the pub, and since Nixon had privileges that the enlisted men didn’t (and because Winters didn’t drink), Welsh often invited Nixon to be his casual drinking buddy. Nixon didn’t have the same energy for the pub crowds as Welsh did. On more than one occasion he stood his friend up, and this evening was looking like it was about to be one of those times.

Nixon slumped down onto the twin bed in his tight box room and that was it, he wasn’t getting up. He lay there, head barely propped up on the pillow, lacking the energy to even pull his boots off. This wasn’t the same exhaustion he had felt during his training at Toccoa. His body was strong, in fact it felt over-rested, restless. He found himself wishing for that physical fatigue he had once known. Things had grown stale for him at Aldbourne. Generally speaking, he enjoyed the work and he did it well. But recently Nixon felt under stimulated.

Things in his personal life had also become stagnant. His letters home were predictable and polite. He wasn’t lacking in fraternity camaraderie thanks to his friendships with Winters and Welsh and now Emily. He fully considered her a friend, and one he was grateful to know. Yet, Nixon felt himself wanting since the drama of their strained association had ended.

With combat on the horizon, he was conscious of not jinxing the relative peace he was experiencing. But a part of him, deep down, feared his own potential recklessness. He knew himself well enough to suspect that he may just do something that his rational self would regret later if this boredom continued.

Perhaps he should go out for that drink with Welsh, at least for the opportunity to burn off some frustrated energy. Barely lifting his head from the pillow, Nixon tipped a bit of liquor from his flask down his throat as he debated with himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentlest knock at his door. Nixon lifted his head in surprise, he wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Lew? You in there?” A voice murmured through the wooden door.

“Yeah,” Nixon whispered louder back, “come in,” he said as an afterthought.

Slowly, the door was eased open and Emily slipped quickly inside. She was dressed in slacks and a dark blouse tied up loosely around her waist. Although it was late evening and her face looked clean of makeup she still sported her bold red lipstick. She grinned naughtily, obviously feeling rebellious for being in his room at such an hour.

“Emily?” Nixon couldn’t say he wasn’t a little surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

From behind her back Emily produced an open bottle of red wine and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you say?” she smiled charmingly, “up for a little gin?”


Nixon raised an eyebrow, “I hope you mean the game and not that you have gin in that stoppered bottle of yours.”



“Don’t be silly! Do you mind?” Emily flopped down on the foot of his bed without waiting for permission. “I’m afraid the wine won’t be up to your usual standard. If I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t very expensive.”

“You always assume me a snob.” Nixon took the bottle from her to check out the label.

“Well, you are kind of a snob. Vat 69 exclusively?”



“I drink beer.”

“As a supporting act,” Emily said.

Nixon chuckled and handed the bottle back to her, “you don’t know much about whiskey do you?”

“See! That’s something a snob would say!”

“I could be worse.”

“True,” Emily conceded, “you’re a snob but at least you’re not condescending. I’ve met a few guys like that.”

“Notre Dame men?”

“Harvard, I’ve recently met them.”

“Good thing I went to Yale.”

“Oh yes, good thing!” Emily teased.

“Anyways,” Nixon continued, “you may be surprised to know that Vat 69 isn’t the smoothest of whiskeys. Just happens to be my personal preference.” 


Emily eyed him, he could see that she wanted to say something but was holding back.



“What?” he pried.

“Nothing!” Her voice clearly revealed she didn’t actually mean nothing.

“Tell me.”

Emily chewed on her lip then smiled hesitantly, “do all alcoholics have preferences?”



Nixon rolled his eyes, “I’m only an alcoholic if it becomes a problem.”

“If?” Emily wrestled the cork from her wine bottle.


“Has my work performance been slipping, Miss Rooney? Do you have some feedback you would like to offer?”

Emily took a swig from the bottle. Nixon could see the tint of ox blood red blossom between her cherry lips before she swallowed. “Not at all Captain.” 



Nixon’s mouth twisted in distaste and he gestured for her to pass the bottle. She took another drink before handing it over, “actually,” she said smacking her lips, “I did have a question - or actually something I wanted to share - from when I was looking over a few of those surveillance pictures. I noticed that there was this hedge, or like fence, or something in a place that isn’t showing up on the topographers’ maps. I think that may change or impact whatever’s in the works.”

Nixon nodded thoughtfully, “okay, good to know. We can go over it in more detail tomorrow or next time we’re both in the office. But enough shop talk, why are you here again?”



Emily held up the deck of cards triumphantly, “gin! Want to play? Or am I interrupting plans?” she asked suddenly timid.

Nixon thought about Welsh at the pub. Eh, he probably made some new buddies to drink with, Nixon wasn’t worried. He still felt tired but looking at Emily perched on the end of his bed, he wasn’t about to kick her out. It’s not like he would be sleeping if she left anyways. The most tragic irony of his current state was that his restless exhaustion had made an insomniac out of him.

“Not at all, let’s play.”


Light seemed to radiate off of her smile in the dimmed room. She tucked her legs under her and dealt the cards. Nixon took another drink of wine, feeling his frustration abate, at least for the night.

Nixon’s workload continued to increase over the next couple of days. He was run ragged by a laundry list of tasks. Although the tasks felt menial, there was the sensation that things were coming to a head. He had known that something big was in the works for a while now. Since he handed those first photos over to Emily he was prepared for what was most likely their invasion of the continent. Finally, it seemed as if it was going to happen.

The intelligence office had been instructed to begin constructing sand tables; miniature, but lifelike maps of the terrain where the allies intended to invade. In a meeting with the higher-ups, Nixon had been instructed not to divulge the location for the impending invasion to anyone. The point of invasion was on a need-to-know basis. The sand tables could be constructed based off of the provided information without having to reveal the actual location. According to Colonel Sink, Emily and other S-2s were to simply be artists for the time being.

Nixon had barely found the time to relay construction instructions to Emily before he was whisked off to another meeting. Ergo, he hadn’t found the time to review the issue she had brought up to him the other night; an inconsistency with the aerial photos and topographical maps.

“Sir,” Emily stood up from her desk when he ducked in to visit his desk one day, “I need to talk to you.”


Nixon ignored her, focused on his task. He was only there to collect some reports.

“Nixon, sir,” Emily skittered over to his desk. “Sir, I need to show you these photos I pieced together. Remember? I mentioned the other night-,”

“Not now Emily,” Nixon grumbled as he rifled through his papers.


“Nixon, please it’s important. I think you should know before you proceed any further with whatever is being planned.”

“You can show me later.”

“I could, yes sir, but I think you should know that the topographical maps may not be completely accurate. They’ll need to be altered which means any strategic planning may need changing which I would hate for everyone to have to revise. It would be better to start with the correct information-,”

“Emily! Please!” Nixon finally found the reports he was after. He exited the room quickly with Emily on his heels, her black pumps tip-tapping irritatingly across the wood and carpets of the manor.

“Lewis, I wanted to show you days ago, take a look at these, really quick,” she stuffed the photos under his chin. Nixon snatched them out of her hand exasperatedly, “what?” he demanded.

She was struggling slightly to keep pace with him but managed to point out a row of hedges, thick and wide, that bordered the far right of one photo and the far left of another. Side by side, the photos formed a clear picture. If Emily hadn’t pointed out the hedge, Nixon may have assumed that the dense shrubbery was blurred photo ink.

“Where is this?”


“It appears to be a large hedgerow right near Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. In fact, it appears to be one of the largest in the area. Sir, it’s not on the topographers’ maps and in my opinion a hedgerow of this size should be included on those maps. It could offer strategic cover for almost the whole battalion. Even possibly an opportune place to set up a rendezvous point? Assuming the Germans aren’t encroaching on that position.” Emily’s voice didn’t waver. She was confident in her work.

“How do you know this is Sainte-Marie-du-Mont?” Nixon kept his voice neutral. Of course he knew that Operation Overlord intended to drop the Airborne into Normandy, but Emily shouldn’t have been the wiser.

Emily returned his suspicious gaze with an emotionless one. There was no hint as to how she discovered the intended invasion point. “I know my maps, sir,” she said.

Nixon couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Thanks for sharing this with me, Miss Rooney. Nice work. I’ll be sure to pass the information along.”

[theprodigypenguin]

James Sirius Potter

Wood: Vine

Core: Unicorn Hair

Length: 15″ 

Flexibility: pliant and slightly springy

“The druids considered anything with a woody stem as a tree, and vine makes wands of such a special nature that I have been happy to continue their ancient tradition. Vine wands are among the less common types, and I have been intrigued to notice that their owners are nearly always those witches or wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths, and I have found them more sensitive than any other when it comes to instantly detecting a prospective match. Reliable sources claim that these wands can emit magical effects upon the mere entrance into their room of a suitable owner, and I have twice observed the phenomenon in my own shop.”  

When James first steps into Olivander’s to buy his first wand, this one reacts to his presence before Garrick can get a greeting out, the box flying off the shelf, marking the fastest response he’s ever seen (and the third time he’s seen a vine wand choose a wizard. Unsurprisingly James is one of his favorites). As his wand may suggest, he periodically seems to do the exact opposite of what people expect of him, through no active conscience of his own. People expect him to join the Quidditch team as a Seeker and he ends up playing as Chaser (like his namesake). He excels so greatly at the sport that people expect him to go into the professional league after Hogwarts, but he surprises everyone (including Harry) when he instead joins the Aurors right out of school, the youngest Auror trainee since Harry and Ron. People around him expect him to be a thoroughbred Potter, because of who his father is and because of who he is named after, but in reality James seems to take after the Weasley’s. He’s so charming people assume he’s a womanizer, when he’s actually gay and quite proud of it.

His personality has depth in that he is a very deep person. On the surface he is what everyone thinks a Gryffindor should be: proud, courageous, brave, with unwavering morals and a strong sense for justice. He can take a hit and dish them out, and he’s not afraid of death or of pain. Under the surface, James is a truly empathetic, sensitive, soft-hearted person, who takes every critique to heart despite how he may smile through it. Probably the softest and most sensitive of the Potter children, despite being the oldest and incredibly protective of his baby siblings. James aspires to be more than what people think, more than just a Potter. He’s a powerful wizard and an excellent Auror, but his mind is as sharp as his spell casting, which comes as a surprise to most his family as well as some of his classmates and teachers. He has such a carefree and good humored personality, rarely paying attention in class, that his high marks stun everyone. Effortlessly intelligent and actually loves learning, retains pretty much every fact he’s heard or read, though he doesn’t flaunt his intelligence in any way.

The core of his wand is a telling sign to both his view on magic and his capabilities. Though the core itself isn’t the most powerful, his wand wood makes up for it in a balance of consistent and unproblematic magic that is complimented by his natural born talent and power. He has an unwavering morality that would never be swayed to the darker side of magic, and his nonchalance and courage against such things parallels his grandfather (ergo James is absolutely the kind of guy who would look a dark witch or wizard in the eye and go “nah” when asked to join, and I think that’s beautiful).

The length of his wand speaks volumes about his eccentric and outgoing personality, the longest wand out of he and his siblings, capable of adapting to new situations with ease and accommodating new techniques to spell casting when necessary, making him an excellent Auror with the potential of being a rather successful government official due to his charm around people giving him the talent of talking himself through or out of any situation. Though government work isn’t really his style, every other Auror would give their left arm to work with him. He would also be quite an accomplished teacher. He excels at working with others.

[pearwaldorf]

A repost of a list I made the last time I did a real deep dive into the Critical Role tag. I have included relevant spoiler warnings but they’re not meant to be comprehensive, so please tread accordingly. Asterisks by new additions.

Percy/Vex

Porny

hold me down, I wanna find out, by sabinelagrande Percy has some plans and not much else, but it’s enough for Vex to go on. It’s Percy/Vex femdom. That should probably be enough for you to figure out if you want to read it or not.

whatever you do (do it for me baby), by mischief7manager Percy finds something that belongs to Vex. After testing, he takes it upon himself to make some improvements. The Percy inventing the strap-on story we all knew was inevitable. This is Impressively Filthy in the best way.

under your moonlit gaze, by seimaisin Vex, Percy, the hot springs, and sex. With a brief interruption from Scanlan. Excellent PWP. Not kidding about the lack of plot. <3

I’ll show you how it’s done, by sabinelagrande Vex is a woman on a mission, and Percy had better hope he can keep up. Lovely bit of bondage and femdom. A++ need more of this.

Not porny

Serving Repentance, by CurrieBelle Set after Episode 40. Vex and Percy discussing their shared interests: trick shots, repressed feelings, poor timing, and ill-advised vengeance. This is a lovely little bit of connection between these two, and I like it a lot.

Inheritance, by CurrieBelle Set after episode 30. Vex asking Percy the question we were all thinking. The Percy voice is just so good in this.

Within the Words, by pagerunner While searching for clues that might help them on a mission, Vex encounters a book in a language she can’t read…and so she turns to the one ally who can. A lovely little moment of connection and discovery.

closer to the sky, by seimaisin Vex is a problem he’ll never be able to solve. A necessary conversation after The Sunken Tomb (episode 44).

The Hands-On Approach, by JettieBettie Vex has never given Percy’s hands much thought before; she is very much like everyone else, distracted by the white hair, apathetic aristocratic gaze, and quick witted intelligence. He certainly seemed the type when they first met, the kind of man with nothing but a callus on his finger from a quill pen. By now she knows better. Lovely bit of character study.

the myth of loneliness, by seimaisin “The wings were a big deal, huh?” “Yes and no,” she says. “I don’t know. Which is a very specific answer, I know.” A lovely little bit of connection in a lonely place.

I want to tell you but I don’t know how, by impossibletruths Such an easy phrase, he knows, small and simple and short, but it sticks in his throat. Besides––actions, they say, speak louder than words. Aww, this is sweet and lovely.

A Civilized Discussion, by curriebelle The one from Trinket’s POV. I love it so much.

Kima/Allura

oh and it aches (and it feels oddly good to hurt), by mischief7manager “They’ve been traveling together for three days now, and if that self-righteous, sanctimonious, supercilious paladin opens her mouth to spout about Bahamut’s glorious purpose one more time, Allura is going to cast Hold Person on her and dump her off a cliff.” Three times Kima saved Allura’s life, and one time Allura returned the favor.

Brighten My Northern Sky, by impossibletruths Cassandra keeps speaking, but Kima pays her no mind because standing at the window, tired and pale and dusty and here, alive, in Whitestone, is Allie. Aww, this is lovely and sweet.

Just promise me we’ll be alright, by impossibletruths In the space of a heartbeat, it all comes crashing down, and she makes her choice. Kima’s voice is so good in this; I love it so much.

we’re not broken, just bent (look, i’m still around), by mischief7manager Kima and Allura rekindle their relationship at Whitestone and find out what has changed, and what hasn’t. This is gorgeous and quiet and vulnerable. I love how Kima snaps and is uneasy, the way Allura blames herself for what happened.

Percy/Pike

Time is not on our side, by thevaliantdust Pike’s divine connection ends, and the waiting begins. Set after episode 59. This is some Quality Angst.

Until you set your old heart free, by impossibletruths In the aftermath of the tomb, Pike makes a discovery, and Percy remembers that not all healing is magic and mended bones. Quiet, lovely, comforting. (ep 44 spoilers)

Keyleth/Vax

i’m yours and that’s it, whatever, by mischief7manager (Keyleth/Vax) “Vax’ildan of Vox Machina asks Keyleth of the Air Ashari to marry him on a warm day in early spring. ‘Wait, what?’ she says.” Cultural misunderstandings surrounding marriage is my jam! Oh god it’s so stinking cute.

love is watching someone die, by nighimpossible (Raven Queen/Vax, Keyleth/Vax) Five dreams Vax'ildan has of the Raven Queen. Creepy and melancholy.

Other pairings/multi

Things in between the fractures and fissures, by impossibletruths (Keyleth/Kashaw) It’s fine, she tells herself. It’s an idle curiosity. It’s checking in on a friend. There is a question she needs to ask, but it is not the one she’s thinking of. Or, two weeks after the Tomb Incident, Keyleth and Kashaw have a chat. There is never enough Keyleth/Kash, and this is so lovely and well-characterized.

The dance, by valiantdust (Vax/Gilmore) Gilmore wakes in Vax’s arms. Yes, it is a Gilmore POV of That Scene. Because I love dying and being dead, I must spread this around. (episode 39 spoilers)

another dream, another love you’ll hold, by zornslemon (Cassandra/Kaylie) “Vox Machina is like that. They come into people’s lives, perform incredible acts of heroism, and then leave again, ignoring the people they leave behind.” Cassandra and Kaylie bond. This is so out of left field, and it works really well.

elements of desire, by notalwaysweak This is a series exploring the formation and negotiation of multiple pairings, from multiple POVs. It’s like a cozy polyamorous blanket.

What Are You?, by Sparxflame (not tagged but basically Percy/Orthax) “What is this?” asks the smoke, quietly. Percy swallows, on his knees, hanging in the endless dark of the void. He knows he’s dreaming, knows none of this is real – but none of that changes the fact he’s alone, and it’s dark, and the smoke is so thick around him that he can barely breathe. “It’s- my gun,” he says. The kinda fucked-up Percy gun kink story I didn’t know I wanted. 👌🏼

serve you well, by endquestionmark (Vax/Briarwoods) So: “Anything you need,” Vax says, and means it with all the fervency of someone with nothing left to barter. Legit the fic I was hoping somebody would write after Vax disappeared into the Briarwoods’ room. (dubcon warning)

Gen

Prowl, by resonant_aura Pike Trickfoot has been a healer for as long as she could remember. But she isn’t only a healer–and it would be beneficial for her enemies to remember that. Who doesn’t love a badass!Pike story? I like that this fills in some of what happens when she’s at the temple.

Simple Creed, by notalwaysweak Helping Pike out in the hospital is more gory than glorious. But Gilmore discovers it’s not without its own rewards. A lovely little character piece, illuminating both Pike and the effect she has on people. (episode 39 spoilers)

Gods and Champions, by earthquakegirl Following Ep. 48, Pike gets fed up with Vax avoiding her and decides it’s time they talk. I like how this digs into both their characters, and people’s perceptions of Pike.

we are not along in the dark with our demons, by TechnicalTragedy “How do you do it, Pike?” “Oh, it’s a constant fight. But us? We’re good at that.” I love how this digs into how much everybody looks up to Pike, and how important it is for the group, but especially Percy.

In Healing Healed, by icarus_unchained Set just at the end of Ep.52. Pike considers Percy, Vox Machina, light and darkness, healing and being healed. Pike’s perspective on what Percy does is absolutely lovely.

And we will stand beside and breathe in their new life, by impossibletruths Percy has lost siblings enough; he had thought himself free of the fear of losing a loved one. He never expected the bright-haired druid girl to crawl into his heart and stir up those long-buried memories. But then, Keyleth rarely does as expected. Or, six times Percy saw his siblings in Keyleth and one time Keyleth called him on it. I am super weak for Percy and Keyleth stories and this is such a good one.

Just the Endless Frozen Pines, by isyotm Keyleth is there long after everyone else is gone. She makes sure Whitestone is too. There may have been ugly crying while reading this.

Intertwined, by sabinelagrande The morning after doesn’t go quite like Percy expected. Technically Percy/Vex, but not really the focus of the story. Cackling.

tame the ghosts in my head, by lakilaes Vex is five when she starts keeping track of how much they spend. Oh this is just fucking heartbreaking.

Night Moves, by sabinelagrande Vax has an unexpected guest, and he would rather not know why. The one where Trinket gets sexiled.

Culpability, by CorvidFeathers After Vex’s brush with death, Percy and Cassandra have a conversation about judgment and guilt, and work out a few of the knots in the tangle of past regrets and mistakes that shadow them both. Why does this not have more kudos? This is complicated and real; probably the best Cassandra and Percy fic I’ve read. (episode 44 spoilers)

Of Edges and Survival, by Kayssna She cries the day she forgets her mother’s favorite perfume, and cries harder when she realizes she doesn’t remember her eldest brother’s face. A lovely little vignette.

It Might Sting a Little, by curriebelle Everyone in Vox Machina must have pierced ears so they can use the magic whisper earrings. Ergo, an ear piercing fic that turned into a Percy character study, because of course it did. It’s really interesting having a look at this Percy, who is so different from the one we see on the stream. Also he gets roughed up a tiny bit in a loving way.

Empires at Peace, by curriebelle Post Episode 38 - Gilmore reflecting on Vax’s decision. Oh god this hurts, and it’s so perfectly in character.

New beginnings, by thevaliantdust Gilmore and Sherri begin rebuilding their business in Whitestone This is so cute.

sugar, we’re goin’ down, by notalwaysweak “I’ve never dueled a dragon before.” How it all went down: the duel, and Emon’s walls too. The one where Gilmore is a badass and a hero, and Sherri is too. There may have been some crying. (The title is a nice touch.) (episode 39 spoilers)

A little help from my friends, by impossibletruths It all seems pretty simple to him. She knows, he doesn’t, she can teach him. Two plus two equals–– well, whatever. Point is, there’s nothing wrong with asking for a little help. Keyleth teaches Grog a thing or two about fighting. Delightful.

Garden-variety training, by charmedward It’s the middle of the afternoon when Grog finds Keyleth crying in the grounds of Greyskull Keep. A lovely bit of interaction between two characters we don’t see talking much together.

the light in me will guide you home, by notalwaysweak While Vox Machina roam Tal'Dorei gathering allies and power, a smaller group holds Whitestone together. A nice look at the bits we don’t see in the main narrative. (Chroma Conclave spoilers)

forget forgotten, by 1001cranes 5 Times Vax Was Not the Raven Queen’s Champion Proper drabbles, each a delightful tiny AU in itself.

* fifteen feet of pure white snow, by cinderfell Critical Role (post Chroma Conclave arc); Cassandra de Rolo When you’ve lived your life in a gilded cage, it’s hard to leave even once the door has been opened.

This is such a fantastic character study focusing on a fear that Cass would plausibly have, and it’s treated with such empathy and compassion.

AU

frost in the brambles, by vype There is a universe where Percival de Rolo was struck down by arrows instead. The one where Cass is the one Vox Machina finds. I love this so much.

Exandria NM, by sabinelagrande The series where Vox Machina works for the National Parks Service. Don’t laugh, it’s fucking great because it is so wonderfully specific and obviously written with insider knowledge. Tell Sabine how much you love it so she’ll write more.

Modern Keyleth/Kash coffeeshop AU omg it’s so stinkin’ cute.

* The Hero’s Petition, by NevillesGran Far in the northern reaches of Tal'Dorei, the city of Whitestone lies half-buried under snow and dark trees. They say monsters live there, now, ruled by worse. They say strangers are hunted and killed. They say to enter is death, particularly to enter the castle.They say sometimes, if you're very brave or very lucky, or merely very desperate, it may be worth the risk.

The dark Keyleth & Percy AU I didn’t know I wanted. Sequel here.

[davidjjohnston3]

Wish I could deliver top-shelf right now... I feel almost as if I will be left with naught but the notebooks, like Flaubert's "Sentimental Education" working notes.

1."You're too philosophical" - it turned/s out he is trying to become conscious of something. 

2.The damn thing is, 2010 Korea is not a warped society.  People are ignorant or naive about some things; and they have a w/Way that worked/s for them.They are trying to help; they want to be mothers and fathers and daughters and students and sons faithful.Great nation.

3.He is unaware of women.  The beauty of the office-buildings at night, when everyone is still at work, captivates his doesn't educate entirely as he's unaware of women and girls and boys at home; he thinks, "family unit."  It's Americanism / mental Americanness.  He has no sense / conception of man, woman, child, m/Mom, p/pop.

4.Abortion-culture, abortion, abortion, abortion."Our point is that we have no point; post hoc ergo propter hoc, you have no point because God isn't real and we are God.

"5."In the Valley of the Butterflies" - a meditation or reflection on how to some people fantasy and unreality are closer to [Adonai] than are their own parents, "parents," friends, "friends," teachers, "teachers.

"6."Minima Moralia Covidiana: Reflections on a Mentally Ill Era from North Korea Policy and NK Studies to Obama to Metascience, Metatheology."

"It's not Houellebecq that's depressed; it's the world that's depressing." - Marie-Pierre Houellebecqa) 

Everyone suddenly became their "brother's keeper, neighbor-lover" but it's more like judge thy neighbor and teach thy neighbor according to crypto-communist evaluations of wokeness.  Also, no qualifications to teach + primitive tools + no mechanism for assessing performance or firing incompetents or the morally depraved.

b) Biden obviously, POTUS, one of the most powerful men in history, says so many right things or right-sounding but at bottom I feel he neck-kneels me in the name of his political macro-economy and is more than willing not just to despise Afghans and throw them away but to silence anyone who registers an eloquent-enough complaint about American throwaway culture, anti-religion, anti-belief, anti-truth, anti-child-ism, anti-Otherism.God love him and give rest to his soul!

c) I am in trouble for being Christian and Christianist but not Frank McCourt or the guy from "Calvary" who gets kilt on the beach.  Jesus / Yesunim was not thrown out or casually murdered by disturbed victim of someone else's crime.  He was arrested by the greatest empire in human history - the last empire - interrogated by a magistrate, sentenced by the religious right and institutional ecclesial / synagogic supreme prestige of his time, and subject to formal capital punishment with full ceremony.  He was also buried with honor and gifts by women and men who loved Him.  He was and is King with all authority on Heaven and Earth and many grown men - in some places - have authority.These people saw too many movies.  

d) Taeyeon Kim's "Circus."We are supposed to take up our Crosses and follow Jesu but Milwaukee's a waterpark / flush-toilet .  "Circulation."

e) David J. Johnston's recurrent wish to write that get-out-of-Babylon bestseller but it'd take 2 years to process through the publishing industry "irregardless."

f) David Cameron's "Life Chances" speech influenced by "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother," a book which kept me awake for some 36 hours the first time I read it despite already knowing what Chinese mu'ai (mom-love) was like in its outlines.

"I'm not against the welfare-state."  - Si.  It's far different to show material as well as spiritual charity to the poor than to to tell them they're all victims who deserve Santa Mao's grab-bag and a guillotine or torture or Xinjiang vivisection and serial gang-rape forced abortion bonanza to boot.

"Family is the basic welfare-state."  - Sadly assuming sincerity, faith, veracity on the part of Anglo-American relationality and family-roles.

g) Saint John Paul II, "Papa Karol."  Humana Vitae / Human Life.  Again and again again and again and again, from the city to the world, generation after generation.  Abortion, euthanasia, rampant Medicalism and Scientism.  If I were to extend JP2's observations through "Theology of the Body" as well I would say that Man's contemporary despising of the soul and Spirit have also infected American literature with the twin outcomes of a) censoring the Spirit and b) despiritualizing and ultimately robbing of all sacredness the material and physical.  In my view this might lead to what I called "liquefaction" or "deliquescence.'  I feel as if communitarian Catholic theologian Charles Taylor might find this idea relatable to "ontology of flesh not bodies" from "A Secular Age," suggesting that Covid-19 and the policies and souls and wills responding thereto led out to a "state of things" (R. Dienst Rutgers) at which people began to actualize a madcap hostility to the physical integrity or integrality or wholeness of the Other.  Part and parcel of this disintegrationism or disintegrationisticity (sorry) other than structural inefficiencies and wasted lives characteristic of socialism / communism, moral confusion, is the outsourcing and supply-chain-disruption and -invasion (is that a Huawei chip in your X-1 or are you just cannibalistic to see me?) or distally "sparagmos" (Gr. "tearing apart; rending limb from limb") of human bodies, but particularly culturally Other men, women, and girls.  Americans not even aware of their own psychopathically malevolent spirits.

g-i) Korean American Literature, though / / Yoon Choi.I don't know if I should be this "medical" but I rem. something about those "This is what a feminist looks like" shirts which were sort of like rainbow-colored Soviet cluster-bombs in the Soviet-Afghan War that attracted women near to toxic (and/or unprepared) men then harmed them... I kept thinking, "Yeah well this is what a semenist looks like" just b/c I was in a bad mood dealing with ideology while trying to "become the man" but it turns out Man would have been better-served to reflect on the characteristics of seed than to devise mechanistic and deterministic monster-murder-Moloch-machines and that's not even "Dreiserian or neo-Dreiserian Naturalism," it's literally part of the intelligence design of the body.  g-ii) If anyone knows of a hole in the ground in Los Angeles preferably with a mirror so I can shave...

7.I keep remembering the lines from "Lincoln" - the only good lines that that bourgeois bench-warmer Kushner perhaps wrote - "millions now unborn... now, now, now."  Human trafficking, abortion, beyond-awful schools and teachers...

8. DJ is always trying to improve his platform without realizing that he has a voice.  He takes the bait again and again and again, both in terms of finding a wife / girlfriend / "coming to an arrangement with _" in the Victorian sense and being baited into a defensive crouch for what he stands to lose.

9. Ownership, "so yu kweon."

10. Everyone taking advice from SF / special forces soldiers on YouTube and a psychologist who deliberately dealt with extremes, Jordan B. Peterson, such as Marxism, Nietzsche, &c.

11.

"Everlasting Consolation."  

"Stepfather."

They are watching TV, reading memoirs, being "Episcopalian" in the old-fashioned regard of having the Bible and the newspaper both, the "Cross of Lorraine" maybe kind of.  But his parents are Democrats and democrats to the core and want to character-assassinate any leader they don't like; they will do anything to reduce a king to a doctor even if this ruler wanted to serve God.  They love nothing more than to find out the ways in which someone is hypocritical or labors under astheneia (weakness), whether monetary of social (no friends, antagonistic sideways deflectionistic teach-you-everything-(to-become-me) / push-me-pull-you neighbors)

12.

I want to exchange poems on Twitter with Pastors Timothy Keller NYC and John Piper BCSMN Bethlehem Baptist Church Twin Cities.