#BOL snippet

[clexa-surrogacy-au]

Little sneak peek of the next chapter of BOL…

//

Lexa’s eyes snap open as she jolts awake to a flash of blinding light, the whole house shaking as thunder crashes in the night and her heart crashes in her chest. She sits up in bed, blankets pooling around her. It’s storming hard outside, rain pelting the roof, tree branches scratching at the window as the wind howls. A glance at the alarm clock shows it’s a quarter past four in the morning.

Lexa calms just seconds later, when soft hands smooth over the skin of her stomach. Then her heart stutters again, as she realizes those hands are on the bare skin of her stomach.

Clarke is clearly half asleep, instinctively reaching out to soothe her. Lexa relaxes, exhaling as she settles back onto the mattress, lifting an arm so Clarke is free to shift closer. She nuzzles her head onto Lexa’s chest, throwing a leg over Lexa’s. The hard swell of her belly presses into the side of Lexa’s, and her hand remains just under the hem of Lexa’s shirt, fingers drifting over skin in a mindless pattern.

Lexa swallows thickly as her eyes flutter closed, arms gentle but snug around Clarke, and absently strokes Clarke’s forearm that’s slung across her waist. There’s an ache, simmering in the pit of her stomach. A type of longing that’s been mostly hibernating for months.

Just the storm, she dismisses in her head. They’ve always had this effect on her. Something about them just wakes her up— literally and figuratively. It’s fine.

She releases a shaky breath and tries to let the sleepy, gentle touches on her hip carry her back to slumber, but it’s not working. She is, unfortunately, wide awake, even long after Clarke’s hand has stilled and she’s slipped into deep, steady breaths barely short of a snore. Another glance at the clock shows Lexa has been lying awake for over forty minutes. She bites back a groan. This is not how she wanted to start the day, but she might as well get on with it, because clearly she’s not going to be falling back asleep anytime soon.

As carefully as possible, she extricates herself from Clarke’s arms—pressing her lips together when Clarke’s hand drags across her stomach, fingers grazing the strip of skin just above the waistband of her sleep shorts—and gently tucking the blanket up around her. Clarke turns in her sleep, curling around Lexa’s pillow. Lexa takes a second to just look at her, at how her hair is lit up white gold when lightning flashes and the light spills in through the window, to illuminate half of the room. Lexa’s stomach turns with the sound of thunder.

You know what? She needs to do the safest thing possible to work off this energy.

Time to hit the gym.

[lookingatacupoftea]

They’re not talking (or are they?)

Please don’t tag or ask Neil about fan theories!

Thinking about how Crowley and Aziraphale seem to keep a lot from each other in S2, particularly Crowley keeping information from Aziraphale.

It’s perfectly possible that much of this is communicated between them offscreen or just doesn’t matter or is a victim of on-set rewrites. But it happens a lot in S2 and a few of these are pretty important details that appear to be deliberately kept secret. 

Things that Crowley knows that Aziraphale doesn’t (as far as we know):

Crowley is living in the Bentley (Aziraphale doesn’t know per Neil)

Crowley has been replaced as hell’s representative (unclear but some have speculated that Aziraphale doesn’t realize this until Shax tells him)

Beez’s offer (sort of revealed in the final fifteen)

BOL threat

Where Crowley goes in his tactical turtleneck during the Job minisode (speculative, could mean nothing)

Shax sniffing around the bookshop 

The memory snippets Jim shares while Aziraphale is in Edinburgh

That “it’s always too late” (could just be a nod to Crowley’s watch in the book)

Where Crowley goes the morning of the ball (speculative)

Crowley telling Jim that he was the one in heaven

Nina’s troubles with and breakup with Lindsay

What happened in heaven and the memory wipe threat

What N&M said to Crowley

Things that Aziraphale knows that Crowley doesn’t (as far as we know)

Maggie crying over Nina (edited to add: this is a weird one because Crowley does know this later but we don’t see Aziraphale tell him and he doesn’t observe her crying himself)

What Aziraphale wanted to tell Crowley when he came out of the Job memory

The Mason clue

What else Aziraphale did in Edinburgh (speculative)

Shax’s visit to the Bentley (oddly, Crowley seems happy to be lied to about this when Aziraphale returns - “that’s what we want to hear”)

What Aziraphale wanted to suggest to Crowley at the start of the demon attack (possibly irrelevant after the fact)

The full Metatron conversation (speculative)

This is in contrast to S1, where secrets are kept but they make sense to the narrative. Aziraphale keeps Agnes Nutter and his Tadfield research from Crowley because he’s stuck between a rock (heaven wanting Armageddon) and a hard place (Crowley wanting to kill the kid). And while neither tells the other directly about threats from other angels and demons, this again is all part of the tight narrative of S1 where they both know that every other celestial but them wants Armageddon.

I keep coming back to how they’re never alone together in S2. The regular pattern of their lives is disrupted from the start. Jim is always in the bookshop, plus other visitors show up, or they’re in public. And we see them being spied on constantly. 

Secret communication, therefore, is my best potential explanation. S2 gave us added context for S1, as lots of you lovely theorizers like @drconstellation, @vidavalor and @leftduck9986 have noted. What if the choppiness in S2 is from missing scenes we’ll get in S3? Cain’s Jawbone across multiple seasons?

I think changing POV (paging @somehow-a-human) is another option for some of these — that thing where people erroneously expect others to know what they know. But that doesn’t work for what seems to be deliberate omissions like the BOL threat or Shax in the Bentley.

I’m open to other ideas, including that last-minute on-set rewrites are to blame. Thanks for reading! This will be me tomorrow wishing I was paid to think about Good Omens:

[irinaiswriting]

 “Arey mai sorry keh rahi hun aur aap has rahe hain, ye kya baat hui?” He pressed his lips together and rubbed his eyes, his shoulder shaking as he continued laughing, and said, “Har din thodi koi sundar ladki aapko bhai aur kutta ek saath bol deti hai,”

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Who are they?  👀

Read Mareez-e-Ishq to know! And let me know if you like it!! <33

Follow on me on Instagram for spoilers and on Tumblr for snippets and/or exclusive content I'm not planning to publish on Wattpad yet. (Like other books' extracts)

[tonydaddingham]

Good morning/afternoon/evening! Three things:

If Crowley is crucified Jesus does that make Aziraphale Judas? You sort of touched on the option in your Fall spec but what about if it's referring to something in s3's modern scenes?

I don't really want the time travel/Book of Life/unreliable narrator theory to be true - I love unreliable narrators, so that could work depending on how it's done, I suppose... but in general I feel like that'd retcon too much of this season? - but I'm beginning to think there could be something to it. It's not just the okay-human-hair-does-grow sideburns and the well-there-could-have-been availability-issues-maybe-Crowley-just-changed-his-style sunglasses which you could handwave away. The shape of his Resurrectionist sideburns and the length of his Job hair seem to change as well - you know, the fricken fake hair that someone needed to deliberately change? There's *something* strange going on...

I forgot to save a link to a - I think Google Docs - meta picking apart the opening sequence and now I've lost it. I was wondering/hoping maybe you or one of your followers knew where it was or even just where I could look? Thank you!

Oh wait, four things. Thanks for all your amazing speculation, it's really enjoyable to read. And I'm glad you said you think season 3 will happen because I have no doubt it'll good but I'd feel much better if it was confirmed, so it's nice to see people being optimistic about it!

good afternoon anon!!!☀️ (afternoon for me, anyway!!!) and thank you so much, it's honestly always so nice to hear that my screams into what feels like a void sometimes do actually land somewhere!!!

re: google doc, the only one im aware of is the Magic Trick You Didn't See analysis, but not sure if this is what you're after... can anyone else help?

as for the rest of your ask: couple of tasty things to talk about here, so let's goooo!!!

i think it could be an interesting concept, aziraphale choosing to betray AWCW pre-fall in the interest of protecting - in his mind - the sanctity of heaven. it certainly would be a fitting bridge, imo, in tone and atmosphere between the pre-fall scene and the wall of eden scene. that being said, i think the analogy would have to be handled quite delicately given the general belief that judas was motivated by greed, or political gain*, and im not entirely convinced that GO would be influenced so literally by scripture, even if allegorically - aziraphale = judas / crowley = jesus could feel a bit... on the nose.

*though, if you consider psalms and john, there is the understanding that jesus chose judas as one of his disciples in order to fulfil prophecy which given that i anticipate there will be a further exploration of free will in GO, this could have fascinating Implications✨

but the thing is: the above only really works narratively, in my opinion, if there is an element of unreliable narratorship and memory modification. if crowley remembered that aziraphale hypothetically dobbed him in, i can't quite believe he would be so cordial, or seem as innocent, as he was on the wall. that, to me, screams that he doesn't remember all of the fall specifically (and his conflicting/piecemeal recollections of why and how he fell in s1 would make sense), at which point there would need to be an element of memory erasure.

as for the source of the memory erasure (and anon, im writing this on the assumption that you haven't read all of my musings, so forgive me if im repeating shit youve already read!), this is where i think i think the BOL comes in. i think the whole wording around 'cease to exist' - upon being erased from the BOL - potentially refers to angels losing memories of their angelic self.

however, the issue with this is that we have crowley and beelzebub both remember snippets of their time as angels (funnily enough, when talking about 'extreme sanctions' to frighten the younger angels). so, whether the BOL in fact erases memory, or if instead it erases angelic grace, i think regardless it has to have something to do with the sentence of falling.

im not a huge fan of memory-wipe plot devices for the same reason you've said - i think it removes too much character accountability - but the allusions to it in respect of crowley in s2 are too much to ignore, so there must be a grain of truth to it. and we know heaven has the power to do it - they outright plan to erase gabriel's memories in ep6.

all of that being said, however - i personally don't subscribe to the 'metatron has been fucking about with reality and memory and has been rewriting it using the BOL' theory. personally (and this doesn't mean i wouldnt be 100% on board with it if it turns out to be the case), i think it's a little too convoluted, even if it does explain the sideburn/hair length/sunglasses shenanigans.

i hasten to add here that even i am not fully behind my own time-travel batshit theory, because it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense and is similarly ridiculously convoluted, but i do think there has to be an in-story explanation for these discrepancies (ie. it's nothing to do with wardrobe choices or dt's filming schedule).

the fact that only (iirc) crowley is affected by this weirdness however is compelling, because lbr; who would care enough about crowley himself for there to be any fuckery where his specific narrative is concerned? well, that only leaves aziraphale and crowley himself*.

i have to admit that i need to examine the job and resurrectionist minisodes closer to see which specific scenes show the discrepancies (and possibly look at the 1941 minisode to boot), but the thing is - we know that crowley has the power to affect time. messing about with his own timeline, possibly in a bid to protect aziraphale (?) or prevent him going back to heaven, would account for a lot of his lines and his decisions in s2, and to my mind would account also for the very suspicious colour grading in s2: what is posed as a non-diegetic might in fact be the opposite, and the reason why we're seeing so much yellow and red grading is because it is all literally influenced by crowley's power himself... essentially, we could be seeing a colour signature of his power.

*i know metatron could be in this list; he obviously remembers him and bears a grudge, but im not convinced at this point that he is that threatened by him. he is able to separate crowley and aziraphale rather easily by social engineering - i think timeline/reality manipulation would be a bit overkill...

alternatively (and i can't take credit for this, this was my bf*), could it be that aziraphale in his new status as supreme archangel goes back to try and prevent AWCW falling? crowley rejects his offer of restoration (quite rightly), but aziraphale wants to prevent the pain that follows his fall, fully believing that he didn't deserve it, and goes back to the pre-fall scene to prevent AWCW asking questions?

that would explain in some sense why aziraphale seems to have a concept of punishment during this scene (when, to my mind, there's not currently any firm narrative explanation as to why he should). obviously it doesn't work, aziraphale fucking about with time - and trying to influence/retcon past free will - and AWCW is made to fall as punishment on aziraphale (hence scapegoating AWCW). this in turn would explain why crowley doesn't seem to know why he fell; he 'only asked questions'.

*both bf and i understand that there are a lot of loopholes in this (we were just spitballing about your ask, anon!) and im personally not sold on it because of what it could implicate for the wider narrative, plus it doesn't quite make sense re: the colour grading, the changes in crowley's appearance etc, but it is a valid speculation and could hold some weight... would probably need to think on it more to see if it is more plausible than im currently giving it credit for!!!

just a couple of ideas, and nothing that i firmly believe!!! i think one of these days, because all of my speculations link in together, i might need to write it all up into one long essay - but until that day, i love answering asks like this that make me think more on themes and allegory, and speculate on s3 - frankly, still in the wake of s2, it's what's keeping me going!✨

[i-just-look-at-pictures]

I am irrationally emotional about this because whether I had 20 views or 20k views it really makes no difference to my love of their story but I just want to take a moment of disbelief and thank anyone who has ever taken the time to comment, leave kudos or even so much as read my fic.

This is really quite excessively open but I started writing TSLIHSALHUT (note to anyone who is considering writing a story - give it a simple name because it is a mouthful to type from hereon we will call it sleeps) when I was essentially on house arrest awaiting an operation for a health issue. I was depressed, lonely and really just existing. I reached a point where I didn't even want to exist because what was the point?

I had finished the last term of my master's and was being left behind by all my friends who were getting on with their lives and planning all these incredible things whilst I felt I was drowning. I was housebound, so desperately ill and had given up on my life ever becoming better. Whilst rewatching Peaky Blinders I found an old oneshot from years ago that prompted me to draft a chapter, one chapter. I will add that my degree was in creative writing but I had lost all confidence in my own voice and lost all longing to write, to do anything I had once remotely found enjoyable.

But I wrote it and afterwards I posted said chapter because I thought why the fuck not. It was a short seven-chapter fic that would 'look at Tommy's and Grace's life together.' Snippets, never did I intend their entire journey to be documented in this. What changed? You all.

I say without an ounce of exaggeration that writing this fic saved my life. Slowly, slowly, with each chapter, with each upload, with each kudos or comment, something reawoke. This wasn't just writing about my favourite characters anymore, this was a community that embraced both me and the small work of creativity that I brought to the table.

For such a violent show, I have never been a part of such a wonderful, empathic, tender, beautiful community. I had been surviving for such a long time that I had completely forgotten what it felt like to have a purpose, a drive, a hobby, SOMETHING that I was proud of and you have all been with me every single step of the way.

This is too emotional for a Wednesday night but Jesus Christ, I don't know how I would ever thank you all for giving me my voice back. It started as a whisper over the summer and your kindness and support have enabled me to carry that over to my everyday life.

It was a safety blanket to fall back on. It was something to get me out of bed before midday. It was innumerable posters reaching out to me after my dog was put to sleep. It was strangers on the internet checking in with me after my operation. It was support and companionship and it was recognition that, even though I felt I did not matter, you thought I did. You thought my work did.

So thank you. For every single person in you 20,062 (I mean that is just fucking ridiculous, have you read it... it's shit!). You could not save me when I was drowning, and you never even realised I had entered the water but you each contributed to the ladder that allowed me to climb to safety.

I got my operation, my health grew better, I finished my degree, I went back to work and life got better, but I sincerely do not think I would be sat here tonight in the position I am if it had not started with that first chapter of Sleeps.

Never underestimate the impact you have on strangers on the internet. Never underestimate the value of your worth. You save lives and change lives every single day and for that, I will love and appreciate you for the rest of my life.

So, emotional time over. Peace out. I have Spag Bol for tea and a chapter to edit.

Beth x

[kishusachan]

Late night HOPES 🌿💌

She: Everyone is fighting Every single person He: Yesss true She: Some are fighting mentally Some physically Some emotionally Sabki alag stories h He:Kuch apne tak rakhte hai kuch share kar paate hai She: But it's so beautiful that everyone is together ✨ And sath me rehkar they even forget about their worse to worse situations And have those little snippet moments of laugh together 🤍 He: That's what life Teaches us still I appreciate those jo bravely apni mental health ke baare me bol paate hai They're literally so strong She: Yes it requires courage They're prone of getting hurt but they still speak - Kishu & Anonymous ♡ A snippet into the chat ☮️🌼

[doorsclosingslowly]

snippet time

i finished drafting one of the other scenes from the roleplay fic! featuring no roleplay, no sex, but drinking and murder. to be revised when I have more scenes so I can make all the vibes fit

“And I’m telling you again, I don’t know what he does Tuesday evenings,” Jesper hisses.

“You were still with the Dregs, three months ago!” Kaz is wiping his cane clean. It didn’t even really get dirty—they mostly used kitchen knives to do the deed, and in the case of a maidservant who unwisely came to work in the middle of the night, a bullet that Jesper’s already collected and reshaped into something functional. It’s good, though. The fact he’s cleaning it is all the confirmation Jesper will likely ever get that Kaz does like the new cane. At least there’s one thing of Jesper’s he values. “How can you not know the behavioural patterns of your boss? Are you that brainless?”

“No-one knew what he was up to! He barely came by the Slat. He wasn’t that interested in us.”

“You worked for Per Haskell, Jesper; you worked for that man for years—for nearly as many as I did, when you ran—and now you attempt to convince me you barely know his name?” Kaz still doesn’t look quite as harsh as he used to, or maybe that’s just Jesper hankering for their past. Well, he didn’t used to explain his plans to Jesper as if he was an imbecile—but then, he didn’t used to need Jesper. He had more stooges back then. Now, he only has one. Ally. Friend. “Let me make this clear—we are both hunted. Neither of us can afford to be caught outside on the streets of Ketterdam and let whoever saw us live. If we’re going to make Haskell’s house our temporary base of operations, we need to make his death as inconspicuous as possible. We cannot safely anticipate which of his visitors to eliminate and which to fool unless we know whether they, in turn, may be missed.”

“Well,” Jesper mutters. “Mitki might come by.”

Kaz raises a single, dirt-encrusted eyebrow.

“Mitki’s the newest lieutenant. Might have made it this—”

“Not Anika? I can understand why a flake like you didn’t rise in the Dregs ranks, but she—”

“Ambush. Dime Lions, five weeks after you disappeared.”

“Rotty?”

“Slit throat. Still no clue who did it.”

“Specht? Pim? Neeta? Big Bol?”

“Razorgulls, knife, last year. Hellgate. Hellgate. Hellgate.”

“Muzzen? Ruk? Keeg?”

“Another ‘Gull stabbing, just before I left. Hellgate, again. Keeg just disappeared, though. Might still be alive somewhere over the ocean, if he’s clever. Not that he was, he’s probably floating, poor sod. There’s a reason why I didn’t think twice about running when I lost those fifty thousand. Like I said, boss, it’s been a shitshow since you left. Haskell never wanted for new ones, since he got his kids fresh off the street, but he just stopped giving any shit whatsoever, and since you weren’t there to pick up the slack… well, I can see why he didn’t care, now.” Jesper spares a bitter look for the mountain of kruge next to Haskell’s foot, the mountain he didn’t want to tell Kaz about until Kaz had already half chopped off that extremity. The mountain he’d never have amassed as the boss of a gang as shambolic as the last years of the Dregs.

The mountain that’s going to pay off Inej’s indenture tomorrow.

Haskell allowed her to rot there. It’s only fair he pays for her freedom with his life.

“And you,” Kaz tips Jesper’s chin up with his cane. The world shimmies a little. “You, of all the old Dregs, survived.”

Jesper shrugs. This is too much to confess to Kaz, of all cruel bastards, probably far too much, but—they’re sitting in the living room of Jesper’s former boss, the man who sold Kaz out to the Darkling and used the prize money to live in luxury, while letting his gang die on increasingly pointless haphazardly prepared errands. The other end of the table is still flecked and puddled with slow-drying blood—not to mention the tied up corpse, or corpse-pieces, laying there—but over here, they have a bottle of expensive whisky they found in a cabinet and they’re trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean.

“I didn’t take it too well, when you and Inej just disappeared, and then my friends kept dying. Might have gone on a couple of benders. Might have had some sexual encounters with people who turned out to be massive creeps. I may not have been technically around to be asked to go on some of these errands, or perhaps I just didn’t notice because I was drunk.”

“Jesper.”

He shrugs. It’s not really that humiliating, now he’s said it out loud. Jesper spent two years making bad decisions and occasionally braiding Inej’s hair. Kaz spent that time getting turned into a doll. Who can say what’s worse? He takes another deep gulp and grins. “You know me, boss. I need some external structure in life. I really need a commandeering asshole dragging me into his schemes to be my best self.”

Kaz steals the bottle. It’s incredible, actually, Jesper was just holding it—well, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, but Kaz would probably like being complimented on his pickpocketing. “I didn’t even see you steal that bottle,” Jesper says.

“I’d be angry you’re drunk,” Kaz rasps. “But you’ve been completely useless at all stages of the current plan so far.”

He says that, but his own cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol, too. His pupils are wide when he looks at Jesper. He raises the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing what should have easily been ten more swigs of whisky. Thieving bastard.

[alkhale]

Palen bol (Lotor x Oc) OTSAY Snippet

If youre still doing requests, totally just saw that Lotor going after Mavis snippet and I might be a tad thirsty for more 🙏🙏

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

“Tzzt-crrrrkk—Mavis! Mavis! You’re breaking up! Get out of there now! Pidge will be right above you!”

She hit the communicator by her ear, turning it off and shutting her eyes against the sound of Lance’s voice shouting for her to come back. Mavis ran down the halls of the Royal Galran fleet ship, ducking as another security drone fired off at her back. Heat from the lasers pressed close to her armor, threatening to scorch her skin as she panted, baring her teeth and pumping her arms at her sides as she raced headfirst. I can’t leave yet! I have to get the research! I can’t let all of our hard work just fall into their hands just like that—

How could you betray us? Mavis angrily tossed herself down the next corridor, smashing her heel into the security scan and forcing the doors shut. The drones on the other end began firing, crashing into the metal and Mavis continued to run, remembering every twist and turn of the halls as she ran for her former study. You bastard! Lotor, we trusted you! We all trusted you! Allura—Allura—

No, he doesn’t think it’s betrayal. Mavis stopped just short of a corner, heaving, holding her breath as security ran the opposite way. She counted in her head the way Keith always said he did and threw herself into another sprint, pushing herself to run faster than she’d ever run before.

I can do it. Mavis grit her teeth, running harder. I’ll get Allura’s research back. He’s not winning this time—

“Ah, there you are.”

Mavis felt her heart stop.

A clean kick caught her evenly in the middle, connecting clean with the combined force of her headlong run. Mavis choked out a strangled gasp, air and spit flying from her mouth as she sailed across the hallway and slammed into the wall, practically breaking a set of computer panels behind her. She groaned, wheezing for air on the floor as she scrambled, trying to get back onto her knees.

“One more, Ezor. A bit more gently this time, would you?”

Mavis’ arm barely shot up in time to brace herself as another kick sent her skidding back across the floor, collapsing onto her side. Mavis felt air slip pitifully past her lips, chest rising and falling as she frantically tried to catch her breath. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“If I were you I’d stay down,” Ezor chirped above her, beaming. “But if you want to try again, be my guest!”

“Fuck you,” Mavis wheezed.

“Such language is unbecoming of you, Mavis,” his clean, even footsteps echoed forebodingly against the walls surrounding her. Mavis growled against the floor, weakly raising her eyes upwards as she wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. His footsteps stopped a few inches from her.

A dark shadow cast itself about Lotor’s frame, draping him in regal darkness. He smiled down at her, expression just as welcoming and warm as it was in her office.

The office he gave you. The materials he gave you. The hope he gave all of you—

“I wanted to discuss things with you the most, Mavis,” Lotor said calmly, looking genuinely troubled as he lowered himself down to her level. Mavis glared at him through her bangs, fingers digging into her skin as he crouched beside her. “I was hoping we could come to an understanding before everything turned out so… messy. It seems the weight my fellow half-breed has on your crew is vital, isn’t it?”

“His name is Keith,” Mavis snapped. Lotor’s smile was even, expression cool as he gazed down at her. “I’d believe him if he told me the sun was the moon.”

“Such foolish piety,” Lotor murmured. “I had hoped you could have such faith in myself.”

“You had it,” Mavis snarled. Lotor’s brows furrowed and she hauled herself up onto her knees. Ezor raised a warning foot but Lotor raised a hand, ordering her off. “Allura. Allura believed in you. She put everything she had on you and you betrayed her!”

“I did not betray her,” Lotor said. “Nor did I betray you. None of you. My goal is still the same—I still stand by what I believe in, Mavis.”

“No, you betrayed all of us when you didn’t come clean about—”

“I still believe in what you can do, Mavis. What I know you can do.” Mavis struggled for consciousness as Lotor’s hand reached out, his almost clawed fingers sifting through her messy hair and pushing it aside to show her face to him. Lotor smiled at her, eyes almost crinkling at the corners. 

“Did you forget who believed in you when even your own team doubted you?”

Mavis jerked her head away but Lotor’s fingers shot out like vipers, seizing her chin and forcing her back to him. Mavis struggled, thrashing around and quickly swinging her fist out. Lotor’s free hand grabbed it, forcing her hand back into the broken wall and Lotor’s grip on her chin turned bruising, a warning settling across his face.

“Mavis, I am not your enemy,” Lotor said firmly, “I need you to understand that. It’s crucial you do. I believe in you above everyone else—”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Mavis shouted. Lotor’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to make that call! They’ve all known me longer than you have—you don’t know them, or me—you think you do but you don’t! All of them; Lance and—”

“I know your origins,” Lotor said soothingly, voice dripping in velvet. Mavis froze. Lotor’s fingers worked over her own, coaxing.“Remember? You told me all of it. Where you came from, why you do what you do… all that time we spent together, pouring over your notes, listening to each other’s ideals… did you forget that we came to know each other as well?”

Lotor smiled at her, as though placating a child. “Are you so afraid that someone other than them might know you better than they ever could?”

Mavis free fist connected clean with Lotor’s cheek, barely even knocking him aside. Her bruising knuckles split at the contact of his hardened physique, only managing to turn his face from her.

Ezor winced. Behind her Zethrid smirked.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Mavis hissed. “I do.”

Lotor’s expression was calm, gazing sideways for a moment before he lightly reached up and touched the side of his face where her punch had landed. The perfect little strand of his hair strayed across his expression. The air hummed, low and tight with energy. Lotor worked his jaw once, sliding his fingers down to his chin and examining the blood from her split knuckles now on his skin.

He coolly looked at her, licking his lips and her blood along with it.

Mavis heaved, air rushing and collapsing out of her lungs as her eyes rolled up to the back of her head. Lotor’s fist had been clean and quick, knocking her out with precise effort. Mavis garbled out a weak curse, slumping forward. Lotor’s hand snaked around her waist, gently cradling her against his armored chest.

“Trusted… you…” Mavis mumbled, eyes sliding shut.

Lotor calmly placed a hand against her head before he shifted it beneath her knees, hoisting Mavis up into his arms with ease. Zethrid and Ezor straightened behind him and Lotor calmly gazed down at Mavis’ ragged expression.

“You still should,” Lotor said.

“With all respect, my lord,” Zethrid said roughly. “That one’s a nut case. I don’t think she’s going to be lining up with us anytime soon.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Lotor said coolly. He traced one finger against the curve of Mavis’ cheek, bringing it up to push aside a strand of hair from her face. “It merely means a little palen bol will be necessary.”

Zethrid’s smile turned wicked and Ezor let out a whistle, tossing her hands behind her head as Lotor faced forward, smirking as he cradled Mavis to his chest.

“Sometimes the body must first break before it can be enlightened.”

[violetmessages]

👀

“No Jack today?” Gwen asked, taking out the corkscrew and popping out the cork. He’d usually come with Ianto, even if he didn’t always spend the night.

“No, he’s got to train Martha and Mickey,” he said, widening his eyes for emphasis. He accepted a glass from her, poured himself a rather large serving of wine, took a deep swig from it, and rolled his eyes when she raised her eyebrows in concern. 

She didn’t ask. She already knew what the problem was, and Ianto was clearly not willing to talk about it. Time to pivot the conversation away. 

“Rhys is warming up spag bol,” Gwen said. He smiled wanly at that, sipping from his glass, and then schooled his expression into one of attempted interest as Rhys walked back in, holding a large pot. 

“Hey Ianto,” he said, and placed the pot down. He’d long accepted that Ianto was all but living in their spare room now. “What kind of wine is that?”

“Zinfandel,” Ianto responded, and took another long drink from the glass, emptying it. He ignored her worried look, taking the bottle back and haphazardly pouring himself more wine.

Send me a 👀 for a snippet!

[hfbinks]

Tagged by @theycallmebol

Just saw this now fgjlgd thanks bol :')

Rules: Post the file names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous the name. Send me an ask with the title that intrigues you the most and I’ll post a little snippet or tell you something about it! Tag as many people as you have wips!

1 Hero LOV WIP

SK8 AU

dbhwks D4 coded

dabi bb

Dabihawks Week 2021 (i know, creative fhklgd)

royal au

racing au

chickensoup for a soul

touya dies in this, i guess

I don't know enough people on tumblr but on the off chance somebody stumbles over this post, feel tagged! :)

[clexa-surrogacy-au]

Little sneak peek of the next chapter of BOL…

—

“You okay?”

Clarke nods, leaning in to wrap her lips around her straw. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Clarke nods again, and then is saved by the bell when Wells returns from the bathroom, a bright smile stretching across his face when he sees the vanilla shake placed before him.

“So what time’s the party tomorrow?”

Clarke looks up in confusion, just in time to see Lexa’s face wiped clean of any emotion— but Wells winces, as though someone kicked him under the table. Clarke raises a brow at Lexa, who sighs.

“Don’t act as if you didn’t know there’d be a party.”

“I didn’t know,” Clarke grins, slurping her shake.

“Whoops,” Wells says apologetically, cringing at himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t a hard guess,” says Lexa dryly, sipping her own strawberry shake (and ignoring the way Clarke gloats at her for more than one reason).

“It wasn’t. I mean, especially when it happens every year.”

“One of these days you’ll actually be surprised,” Wells says, dipping a fry into his shake, grinning and offering one when Lexa pulls a face, popping it into his mouth when she stubbornly shakes her head.

“What time is it tomorrow?” Clarke asks innocently. She plants her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist, lips curving as Lexa deadpans her. “So I know when to get ready.”

“You’ll find out when you find out,” Lexa tells her. “Eat your burger.”

[marlaluster]

Emptying the cliptray...

1. https://www.google.com/search?q=sashimi+definition&oq=sashimi+def&aqs=chrome.0.0j69i57j0l3.9359j1j4&client=ms-android-mpcs-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8 2. FORTUNE COOKIE If people talk negatively about you, make sure no one will believe them. 3. https://www.instagram.com/p/CFcQE7nhmTc/?hl=en 4. ba·salt /bəˈsôlt/ Learn to pronounce noun a dark, fine-grained volcanic rock that sometimes displays a columnar structure. It is typically composed largely of plagioclase with pyroxene and olivine. a kind of black stoneware resembling basalt. Definitions from Oxford Languages 5. https://www.google.com/search?q=basalt+definition&oq=basalt+def&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j0l4.16247j0j9&client=ms-android-mpcs-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8 6. bal·sa /ˈbôlsə/ Learn to pronounce noun 1. very lightweight wood used chiefly for making models and rafts. 2. the fast-growing tropical American tree from which balsa is obtained. Definitions from Oxford Languages 7. https://www.google.com/search?q=balsa+definition&oq=balsa&aqs=chrome.2.69i57j0l2j46l2.6438j1j9&client=ms-android-mpcs-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8 8. : a long heavy single-edged knife of Philippine origin used to cut vegetation and as a weapon. Merriam-Webster › dictionary › bolo Bolo | Definition of Bolo by Merriam-Webster Feedback About Featured Snippets People also ask What does bolo mean? As used by American police, the term dates to at least 1947. An all-points bulletin can also be known as a BOLO or BOL, which stands for "be on (the) look-out". Such an alert may also be called a lookout or ATL ("attempt to locate"). en.m.wikipedia.org › wiki › All-poi... All-points bulletin - Wikipedia 9. https://www.google.com/search?q=bolo+definition&oq=bolo+def&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j0l4.4232j0j9&client=ms-android-mpcs-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8 10. bos·om /ˈbo͝ozəm/ Learn to pronounce See definitions in: All Anatomy Clothing noun a woman's chest. "her ample bosom" Similar: bust chest breasts mammary glands mammae boobs boobies tits titties knockers bazookas melons jubblies bubbies orbs globes jugs bristols charlies baps bazooms casabas chi-chis hooters norks dugs paps embonpoint adjective (of a friend) close or intimate. "the two girls had become bosom friends" 11. https://www.google.com/search?q=bosom+definition&oq=bosom&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j0j46j0l2.4197j0j9&client=ms-android-mpcs-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8 12. https://youtu.be/afiUR6Tx6Yo 13. Jason14, melbourne, Australia, 14 hours ago Not true New612 Jason14, melbourne, Australia, 14 hours ago In my 27 years, the only time I see people walking barefoot in Australia is on the beach. New15222 BritInBorneo, Borneo, Malaysia, 13 hours ago You need to visit Queensland. Lived in Brisbane for 3 years and it was a regular occurrence. Some stores even had signs asking for patrons to wear shirts and shoes. New884 bagpuss1984, Oxford, United Kingdom, 14 hours ago Hes stunning 14. Elsa Pataky and Chris Hemsworth appear together but they were both barefoot... 15. I heard from Chris in my mind just now. He said something like that he cannot be. "That was what he said," the devil said. I had been saying on this blog that Chris Hemsworth and Elsa Pataky were not easily paired by the devil for pictures lately and the devil had been saying so as well. Since this appearance reported on by the Daily Mail today, Chris and Elsa had not appeared together since Chris Hemsworth's birthday on August 11. "I just asked if they could be okay to be barefoot. It said they can't. But I can say something about this outing. It makes for something where I'm not here," the devil said. "That means it makes for something where I look less," the devil said. Other people in the background of photos in the article are wearing shoes. Here's a link to the article... 16. https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-8762701/amp/Chris-Hemsworth-wife-Elsa-Pataky-barefoot-enjoy-low-key-breakfast-Byron-Bay.html 17. Much to my amazement they do go barefoot a lot in Australia, I ask my self what about the dog poo in the streets and the germs , especially now with Covid New28243 AliceInSydneyLand, Sydney, Australia, 13 hours ago I'm Australia and it's not normal where I'm from in Sydney! At and around the beach yeah, but not into a shop. It's just gross! New4119 Joona, Adelaide, Australia, 12 hours ago No we don't New256 MotherR, Adelaide, Australia, 8 hours ago I never see anyone without shoes, and I've lived in three states of Australia. New55 amy2609, Brisbane, Australia, 7 hours ago We wear shoes and we pick up our dogs poo. New1 18. We wear shoes and we pick up our dogs poo. New112 GrannyCarla, Sydney, Australia, 6 hours ago You're fined if you do t pick up your dog poop..they have bags everywhere so we can do it and yes we go barefoot around the beaches a lot, Byron is hippie 101 New03 Clémence, Paris, France, 15 hours ago I love them together! New24 19. Belly12345, Sydney, Australia, 10 hours ago Ahhh shoes!!!!! We do wear shoes!!! People in Byron Bay wear shoes!!!! New1080 1 reply View all replies Gina203, Lytham , United Kingdom, 10 hours ago God he's handsome but the barefoot business is crazy, the germs on footpaths, why would you New12100 5 replies View all replies Lily Bee 10, Somewhere, Belgium, 10 hours ago honest question: what is Byron Bay exactly ? a sea resort ? I hear about it all the time New328 20. Keep your words short and sweet, just in case you need to eat them. Click to reset the fortune cookie. FORTUNE COOKIE Keep your words short and sweet, just in case you need to eat them.

[weelectronicstudentreviewstuff]

Rajasthan Royals Welcome Michael Jordan To The "Royals Family" In Unique Fashion. Watch

Rajasthan Royals Welcome Michael Jordan To The “Royals Family” In Unique Fashion. Watch

Rajasthan Royalstook to Twitter to share a snippet from ‘The Last Dance’, a documentary based on Michael Jordan’s journey with Chicago Bulls. While sharing the video, the Rajasthan Royals tweaked the video a bit and added their theme song ‘Halla Bol’ as the background music to welcome Michael Jordan to their Royals Family. The Rajasthan-based franchise described the video as a welcome gesture…

[topfygad]

Pedaling Via Amsterdam – Rick Steves’ Travel Web site

I adore Amsterdam. And I adore it even more from the seat of a bicycle.  

Because of the coronavirus, Europe is effectively off-limits to American travelers for the subsequent couple weeks (and possible more time). But journey goals are immune to any virus. For the duration of these challenging periods, I consider a each day dose of vacation dreaming can actually be good medicine. Here’s an additional one of my very beloved travel desires-come-true…a reminder of what’s waiting for you in Europe on the other conclusion of this disaster.  

Sightseeing is not just seeing. To get the comprehensive practical experience of a spot, you will need to feel, listen to, taste, and odor it. On this take a look at to Amsterdam, I’m building a position to concentration on sensual travel. It’s a city manufactured to engage all of the senses. 

I normally hire a bike below. I want to experience the bricks and pavement beneath two wheels. The absence of hills and the first-class bicycle-lane infrastructure tends to make biking right here a breeze. The clerk at the rental shop ought to be exhausted of explaining why they do not carry mountain bikes in this flat land. When I inquire, he responds — in common Dutch directness — “Mountain bikes in the Netherlands make no perception at all. When a puppy requires a dump, we have a new mountain. You pedal around it…not around. It’s no issue.” 

I trip off along the shiny damp cobbles, my Amsterdam practical experience framed by my black bike’s handlebars. I get pinged by passing bikes and ping my bell to move other folks. When it comes to bike bells, there is no language barrier. For my personal basic safety, I would like I had a more substantial periphery, as cars and trucks, trams, bikers, and pedestrians appear to be to float by from all directions in silence — their sound missing in the white sound of breezing by this dreamy metropolis on two wheels. 

Reaching the Crimson Mild District, I end to use a classic aged road-corner urinal. It’s painted a deep eco-friendly and built to give the person lots of privateness from the neck down and a slice-of- Amsterdam look at at the identical time. The pungent smells of pot smoke and a person else’s urine compete with the dank scent of the canal. I remember one particular of the new Amsterdam specifics I have uncovered: A handful of individuals drown in the canals each and every calendar year. When their bodies are at last dredged up, pretty typically, their zippers are down. They were being very drunk and, alternatively than employing the civilized urinal as I did, they utilised the canal…their final miscalculation. Across the lane, a woman in a cliché of lingerie eyes me seductively from a window, framed in purple. I assume to myself, “This is probably the most unforgettable excursion to a urinal I’ll ever have in my lifestyle.” 

Pedaling on, I discover that the Purple Mild District is now a minimal additional compact than I bear in mind. Spliced in amid the windows exhibiting attractive women are other home windows advertising and marketing manner and contemporary art. Amsterdam’s leaders understand that legalized cannabis and prostitution are section of the city’s edgy attraction, but are also doing work to rein in the sleaze. They’re not renewing some Purple Mild District leases, instead supplying them to additional preferable companies. 

Continuing on my journey, it strikes me that much of Amsterdam still appears to be like it did 3 or 4 hundreds of years in the past, throughout the Dutch Golden Age, when this was the world’s richest town. 

I proceed on to a sq. called Museumplein where Amsterdam’s three, major artwork museums are collected — and selfie-crazed tourists assemble all over the purple-and-white “I AMsterdam” letters, which are as tall as folks. 

I halt a moment to just take in the sq.. Very long traces plague the Dutch Grasp-loaded Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh Museum — both understandably popular. There’s almost never a wait around at the Stedelijk Museum, nicknamed “the bathtub” simply because of the putting condition of its modern day architecture. Inside are 20th-century favorites (Dalí, Picasso, Kandinsky) and outrageous contemporary artwork. I’m not a massive enthusiast of the abstract style, but the artwork at the Stedelijk is truly pleasurable (probably genuinely, really entertaining if you’re into cannabis — bought with a smile in the city’s a lot of “coffeeshops”). 

The seems of Amsterdam’s knack for good living appear to be to surround the museum district. Underneath the Rijksmuseum, in a public passageway, street musicians appear to be doing anything from chamber audio to Mongolian throat singing. All around the corner, a person in a top rated hat cranks away on his candy-colored street organ. Mesmerized children observe its collectible figurines jingle and jangle to the jaunty audio as it little by little grinds as a result of its perforated tune boards. 

The city’s most important eco-friendly area, Vondelpark, is just a short pedal absent. I roll by snippets of Dutch conversation — households with youngsters, intimate couples, strolling seniors, and hippies sharing blankets and beers. 

By now my sense of flavor is prepared for a small focus. Pondering about the options, I consider rijsttafel (pretty much “rice table”), a ritual dish for visitors in Holland. Not a correct Indonesian food, it’s a Dutch innovation designed to highlight the most effective food stuff of its former colony — particularly to show off all the spices that in some approaches at first motivated the colonial age. The evening meal features 20 dishes and a rainbow of spices with white rice to mix and mingle on your plate and palate. Doing the job your way through this tasty expertise, it’s distinct why the Dutch referred to as Indonesia “The Spice Islands.” 

In the mood for a little something a lot more traditionally Dutch, I choose instead for a snack of herring with pickles and onions. Later, I indulge my flavor buds at a cheese-tasting course. Just after a short video which is someplace amongst a cheese industrial and dairy tender porn, I guillotine six distinctive regional cheeses finding out, smelling, and tasting them with a wine accompaniment. 

My remaining experience: some Dutch booze. Whilst the 20-somethings line up for the Heineken Knowledge — a malty, yeasty amusement experience of a brewery tour — I be part of an older crowd at the slick Household of Bols: Cocktail & Genever Experience. Here, I understand about the heritage of Dutch gin (genever), and test my olfactory abilities at a line of 36 scents. I fail miserably, my nose figuring out only 1 scent: butterscotch. I console myself by creating the cocktail of my desires at a computer kiosk and getting the recipe printout to the nearby barista, who mixes a Dutch gin drink that’s uniquely mine. 

Pedaling again to my lodge, rattling in excess of those shiny cobbles just inches from the murky canals, I’m thankful I turned down that one past gin. 

(This tale is excerpted from my upcoming e book, For the Like of Europe — gathering some of my most loved reminiscences from a lifetime of European travel, coming out in July.)  

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source http://cheaprtravels.com/pedaling-via-amsterdam-rick-steves-travel-web-site/

[erpqna]

CRM Bol programming Debugging Tips and Code Snippet on how to read & populate values

CRM Bol programming Debugging Tips and Code Snippet on how to read & populate values

This blog explains on how to do basic debugging and write code in CRM. It covers the below topic areas

1. Requirement: Disable a specific UI element field

For customer overview screen when user clicks on edit to update the address information

Also Read: SAP CRM Certification Preparation Guide

Disable a specific field called “Delivery service type” and do not allow to update Phone and…

[musingsbyroy]

Holy War?

A snippet from the past

Sent from my iPad AirHERE ARE SOME OF OUR MARINES gearing up for war against fellow Filipinos in Mindanao….and that’s the painful part….against fellow Filipinos! My crystal ball says that the Bangsamoro Organic Law will likely go for naught as war will escalate in the largest island of our republic.

The BOL was designed to promote peace, and its implementation is meant to…