#Reformation Wares

[annagracewood]

Our Etsy shop is off vacation mode and back active again

Hey y’all, my daughter and I have an Etsy shop, Reformation Wares. We put it on vacation mode a bit over a week ago due to tight finances; we have to pay the initial charges out of our bank account and then we are reimbursed. We simply didn’t have it. I noticed where several of my readers had recently visited the shop; I’m truly sorry for the trouble. But it’s back active and we have a sale going…

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 14

hope u all enjoy <3 comment and reblog it really means a lot :>

MASTAPOST

The smell of Atlantean was getting stronger, Danny kept himself and Damian invisible as they perched atop a cliff looking down at the town. He could hear Damian licking his lips. Kid, you literally just ate! Was he thirsting for vegetables or blood?

“Excellent. With your camouflage, we will be able to infiltrate and extract the resources without any trouble.”

Danny waved his hands to cut off that notion. “Hold up. Who says ‘we’ are going to raid the Atlanteans? Why shouldn’t I just leave you here and come back and we can be on our way?”

Damian frowned, fins rattling in offense. “May I remind you who has more experience in this field?”

“True, but your dad might skin me if he found out that I let you become a glorified sea pirate.”

Damian tutted. “What father doesn’t know will not hurt him. Now go! We are wasting time!”

With that, Damian attached himself to Danny’s hip, practically hooking his claws into Danny’s scales. The bloodthirsty theory was beginning to gain traction in Danny’s mind, what with how the kid was audibly purring despite Danny not giving any touches at that moment.

Danny let his invisibility wash over his scales, turning his body from translucent to being one with the water, his powers seeping into Damian’s body and hiding him from view too. Hopefully Aquaman wouldn’t be too upset with them.

The boys approached the Atlantean town from above. Danny’s lateral line pinged dozens olf times. Civilians wandered the streets, peddling wares and chatting about the day. On the far side, trainees tossed javelins and practiced archery while an instructor yelled commands at them.

“There.” Damian whispered. The boy tugged on Danny’s fins, and Danny followed the direction to where the market was. “I believe I spotted a cartographer in the crowd. We should be able to obtain our prize from him.”

As Danny descended and swam just over head of the Atlanteans, his ear fins prickled. Chatter in Atlantean filled the water, none of which Danny could parse out. Hell, even his Pacific Siren was pretty choppy, a fact that Sam endlessly teased him about. Ocean languages were tricky! It wasn’t his fault!

Whatever, point is, Danny spotted the guy. Thin, stocky, wearing a dark blue overcoat and tunic, fit with undersea glasses, carrying rolled up paper underarm. The man shuffled into a small corner shop on the street, a good distance away from the bigger crowd in the market. Danny crept up behind him, careful not to bump into any one.

The shop was nothing impressive, just a humble joint probably frequented by travelers or whatever. Maps of the world decorated the walls, accompanied by globes atop display cases that contained even more charts of the local area. The owner kept his back to them as he bent over a bench and filed away his new acquisitions.

“Now, while his back is turned.” Damian whispered.

Danny swam into the shop through the doorway, careful not to make a single sound. The shopkeeper hummed. Danny compressed his hand through the tiny slit of the display case. He reformed it to its proper size on the inside. He grabbed the closest map and spread his invisibility to it, before pulling it out.

The shopkeeper turned around. Danny’s gills stilled. The man stared at the spot where the map had just been, eyes quirked up. He was none the wiser as Danny turned tail, and exited the shop in swift fashion.

Once out of earshot, Danny let himself relax a little. “Welp, time to get outta here then.”

Damian poked him in the side (thankfully below the gills; that would hurt) and chittered. “Negative.”

“What do you mean negative? We got exactly what you wanted?”

“Not yet. Look.”

…

“You know you’re still invisible, right? I can’t see what you’re pointing at.”

“The seahorses!”

Danny’s face blanched. “You wanna eat the seahorses??”

He felt a whack on his sail. “No, you buffoon. I would like to pet them.”

This kid’s priorities. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of in enemy territory here.”

“I am aware, but I have never pet a seahorse before, and I may not get another opportunity like this again.”

Danny’s jaw gaped open. “If you haven’t noticed, there’s an entire ocean ahead of us.”

“Don’t condescend to me. The seahorses are in our vicinity, and there is no guarantee we will come across another school on our journey. Therefore, we go to them now.”

In all honesty, he should’ve expected the kid to be distracted by his love of animals. Hell, Danny could even relate with his own obsession with astronomy.

“Fiiiiine. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

And so Danny flipped fins and brought Damian to the seahorses, as requested. The little things were floating around a coral reef within the town borders, surrounded by a fence. Architectural features like these always reminded him of Dora’s rants about how Atlanteans were essentially humans, and he could see why. What was the point of a fence when everyone and their mother could just swim over it?

Case in point: Danny right now.

Danny lay down on his belly in the sand, keeping a hand on Damian’s shoulder to keep the invisibility flowing. The sea horses swarmed over him, poking curiously at his fins, sensing the disturbance but not seeing it. One particularly brave seahorse even brushed its tail along his gills. Danny had to bite his lip to avoid gasping or giggling from the ticklish sensation. Damian didn’t say anything, but he seemed to be having the time of his life, with how the seahorses’ manes creased from the kid’s touch.

If Danny flexed his ear fins, he could even pick up the slightest cooing sound from the kid. If he could see the younger guppy’s face, he bet it would be split in a huge grin. Then again, Damian didn’t seem the type to express positive emotion so openly like that, but who knows? Maybe the invisibility’s lowering his inhibitions?

A foot brushed his dorsal fin. Danny gasped from the sudden rough touch on his sensitive fin. Dammit!

Maybe he was the one who should’ve remembered they were in enemy territory.

A child gasped, mouth gaped open as she stared at where his tailfin was. Danny pulled Damian back, getting ready to take off. Yeah this was the part where they got the hell out of dodge.

Only for the girl to lean down and poke him. Right in the gills. Ow.

Danny yelped in shock. His body snapped back into the visible spectrum as the little girl went saucer eyed. Outside the fence, an Atlantean woman stood stunned as she blinked owlishly at them.

He chuckled. “Well, thanks for letting us pet your seahorses, but we really gotta go, so see ya-”

“SIIREEEENNNNNNS!!!!!”

Well fuck.

Sam slammed her fist against the punching bag. Every yell brought forth primal rage, and righteous anger. In her mind’s eye, Vlad’s face ate every punch and crunched with every kick. Skulker’s smug mug got caved in. And most of all, Danny’s fucking parents. Her fucking parents.

Didn’t take Superman to hear them screaming upstairs. Hurling accusations, badmouthing Danny for the six hundred and fiftieth time. “Oh how could he lead our precious Sammykins astray like this?” As if they didn’t do that already!

And now she was grounded. Put on house arrest, even. Tucker shared a similar fate. That just left Jazz to monitor the situation. Luckily, Tuck prepared secret burner phones for them for this exact scenario.

Being grounded also meant they couldn’t search for Danny again. In all likelihood he had probably skipped town. Tucker’s forays into the GiW’s servers showed they were still on the lookout, so that was something to be relieved by. If only she and Tuck actually knew what was going on!

She growled and then transitioned into another scream. How the hell did the Fentons even know where to look for them!?

The anger melted away into anxiety. The conversation replayed in her mind. Half the time she wasn’t even sure what she was saying. That was so close. One slip-up and she would’ve landed Danny on the dissection table, not that the result they got was much better. Danny still had a target on his back, and no one could be blamed for it but her. Six months ago while they were just teenagers in over their heads, the idea of caped heroes coming in to save their asses seemed like a dream.

But now? Bruce Wayne funded the Justice League. The fucking Justice. League. It was like Paulina getting a poor girl who bumped into her suspended because of her dad’s wealth. Only replace the poor girl getting suspended with Danny being turned into scientific sushi by the Goons in White, or even worse: his parents.

Oh, and she pissed him off even more. Sam banged her head against the punching back.

Danny was strong. She was strong. Tucker was strong. They had faith in each other. But as yesterday’s hack proved, there were far, far bigger fish in the ocean. And she would destroy anyone who heard her admit it, but part of her was terrified.

Sam retreated to her room, not even sparing her arguing parents a glance. Once in the safety of her private sanctuary, she retrieved her spell book, and began to research anew. She needed to be in tip-top shape to help Danny and Damian Wayne get home. They were going to contact her and Tucker any day now, and she needed to be ready for it.

Please be ok, Danny.

Maddie finished the last of the software updates to the Fenton Sonars, resetting them and reversing the damage Tucker had done. What were they thinking?! Aiding and abetting some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. All those PSAs and lectures she knew he had sat in on with Danny and the takeaway he had was to play superhero with a savage beast?!

The sonars pinged. Just as she suspected. No sign of Phantom near Amity. The GiW hadn’t found crap in however many hours of search in the surrounding waters, so the bastard probably fled with his tail between his… tail. Maddie scoffed. Some hero.

But that was perfectly fine by her, because she had Phantom’s hydroplasmic signature.

Switching programs, she accessed the Fenton Satellite’s computer programming. One key stroke later, and Phantom’s signature beamed up to the Fenton Satellite. Maddie grinned darkly.

“You finished over there, Maddie?” Jack asked. Glow torch sparks lit up behind her and cast the lab in stark shadow.

“Yes sweetie, now all that we need left is the hardware.”

On the workbench, Jack carefully welded their newest creation. She took up the spot beside him, and began slotting components in as they transitioned to working in perfect harmony together. Jack glanced at her, and she passed over the wrench. A nano-battery array here. A forty-inch radar dish there. A custom Fenton piston set over there. With two children on the line, they worked round the clock. They tested their new inventions rigorously, then broke them down to rebuild them better.

Phantom won’t know what hit him.

[louissatturi]

I'm thinking about how cellbit's live is so miserable like comon he has SO Many traumas and he is not even thirty yet (26)

Like first of all he gets taken away from his family at age ELEVEN and gets his memory ERASED, he dosen't remember his family, his name, himself

So for this memorieless boy what is his first memory? What is his New core memory? Him having to eat a dead body to survive

Like the first that he ever eat was human meat

His childhood and preteen years ware spend in a war aka FUCKING HUNGER GAMES ware he was fighting along side a inmortal DEMON

He then goes right to jail but not any normal prison, fucking ALCATRAZ and men he is not a very normal guy

At 18 yo he meets pac and mike and kinda tries to make then his "friends" (he is nice to them and protects them from othe inmates) but then when he betrayed by them

Like this is possibly his first attempt at a real friendship and they fuck him over

Then after doing villan shit (it's a 2015 minecraft webseries, nobody cared in making a 3-dimensional character's) he then gets suck in a island while scaping alcatraz and the he tries to kill himself

Like in fuga impossível is implied that he dies by killing himself (he was with a gun and he hear a gun shot in the end) but ge is alive in qsmo

Then after intense therapy (we need his therapist in the island ASAP) he reforms and is living his live

THEN he goes to quesadilla island

He gets fucking CHAINSAWED to DEATH, his best friend is kidnaped and we just go down from here

Poor q!cellbit

[elizabethan-memes]

In 1547 Archbishop Thomas Cranmer preached a pithy and dramatic sermon at the Coronation of King Edward VI, urging the royal youth to renew the scriptural role of young King Josiah of Judah in his own kingdom. In the early 1560s, Queen Elizabeth I berated Dean Alexander Nowell, in his own cathedral church of St Paul’s, for subversion of her Protestant religious settlement through his ill-judged gift to her of a presentation copy of the Book of Common Prayer, enriched with devotional pictures. Both events are still repeatedly to be met with in accounts of the English Reformation, and the first has recently become something of a fixture in references to King Edward, but there is one problem: neither of them happened. They are fictions created by Robert Ware of Dublin (1639–97)....Although Ware was unmasked by three late Victorian scholars, and by others since in passing, his forgeries still pollute the historical pool of sources about English and Irish history.

Diarmaid Macculloch, All Things Made New

[instruth]

Memories Inscription

Memories inscription

Recollection in frames

Myths prescription

Recognition for fame

It costs nothing

Just a little time

Loses some things

Days and chimes

Medallion ware

Medusa stare

Investigate, collect

Evaluate, select

Symbols and signs

Cymbals benign

Snitch to inform

Switch to reform

Black and white

Grey looks alike

Gin in wanton

Sin to pardon

©Johnny J P Lee

02 October 2022

A Gogyoshiren Poem (20)

Photos, J. P. Lee

[myreia]

DIVERGENCE OF THE HEART

CHAPTER ELEVEN: HEART OF STONE

Chapter Rating: Teen Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 2,851 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

They leave the Borel Manor in silence.

Hilda sets an easy pace, striding with purpose, head held high. She huffs when her long ponytail catches on her jacket collar and pulls it out, flipping it behind her. Her carbine rests heavily on her back, the metal looking all the more worn in the bright sunlight. It is uncommonly bright today, not a cloud to be seen. Aureia can’t remember a sky so clear since the day Haurchefant died.

“I suppose thanks are in order,” Aureia says. She isn’t sure what she wants to say to her friend, but something is better than nothing.

Hilda flashes her a sympathetic smile. “Any time.” They walk a little further, their pace slowing as they turn onto the Pillars’ main thoroughfare. The Vault dominates the skyline, its soaring spires reaching up to the heavens. “You know, Aur, I’m not going to pry into personal matters, but you all right? You seem a little…”

She gestures empathetically, leaving the word unsaid.

“I’m fine.”

She arches an eyebrow, but does not press. “So, I understand dinner went well,” she continues, flashing her a grin.

“Dinner? I—” Aureia blushes. The dinner feels like an age ago. “It was nice.”

“Mhm.”

“It was! What’s that smile for?”

Hilda’s grin widens. “Can’t I be happy for you?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“I’m teasing you because I’m happy for you.”

They round the corner and patter down the stone steps into the Jeweled Crozier. The marketplace is bustling, the midday sun drawing out the crowds. Highborn and lowborn both stand shoulder-to-shoulder, pursuing merchants’ wares with flushed faces and bright eyes. Considering the stringent Ishgardian social divide, it is heartwarming to see them gathered here. Perhaps Aymeric’s reforms are finally making change.

Hilda catches the eye of a large, beefy Elezen loitering in a corner. She gives him a cheery wave and his face breaks into a wide smile. Chortling to herself, she pulls Aureia through the street, weaving their way through the chattering crowd.

“So,” she says, her eyes dancing mischievously. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

Hilda clears her throat and shoots her a knowing look. “How was it?”

“Oh!” Aureia’s flush deepens. She may as well have lit herself on fire from the way she is burning. “Good.”

The dam breaks in her chest, relief rushing over her. Somehow confiding in someone other than Aymeric, someone normal without the concerns of the Ishgardian aristocracy, relieves the stress and worry she has been building in her head. There will always be politics involved in this relationship, she knows that, but Hilda brings a relieving sense of perspective. “It was good. Nice.”

She chortles. “See? I knew you needed someone to help take the edge off.”

Aureia smirks. “Yes, well… Aymeric is quite good at that.”

“Is he now? Fury, I’d hope so, considering he’s been pining after you for moons. I reckon I’ve never seen a man quite in love with anyone as he is with you. One would think a politician wouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”

She pauses, a spike of annoyance stabbing her in the gut. Though the words are different, the point is familiar. Too familiar. “Been talking to Thancred?”

Hilda shrugs. “Saw him in brief last night.”

Her heart pangs, an open, heavy throb. She doesn’t want to think about what that means when who he spends his time with doesn’t matter to her. So why—after everything—does she still care? “At Saint Vaindreau’s Grace?” she asks.

“Aye,” she replies. “At Saint Vaindreau’s Grace. Alphinaud’s little sister is well, if you were wondering.”

Aureia makes a face. “Best not let Alisaie catch you calling her little or that might be the end of you and the Hounds.”

Hilda snorts. The crowd thins and they exit the market, passing below grand sweeping arches as they follow the curve of the street down, down, and down again. Aureia’s legs ache. Why this city was built into the slope of a mountain, she will never know.

“Right,” Hilda says after a moment, throwing her ponytail over her shoulder once more. “Reckon I should have told you sooner considering the two of you are friends and all, but here I was thinking it wouldn’t amount to much in the first place—”

“What would?”

“A bit of fun.” She shrugs again. “Getting a bit bored, if I’m honest.”

Aureia holds her tongue and stares dully ahead. Foundation’s tenements rise high around them, casting the road into shadow. The flagstones are slippery here, puddles clinging to the stone where the sun has not yet hit.

“I worry for you Scions, you know. So concerned with the fates of gods and men, do any of you give consideration to yourselves? It’s hard work, ain’t it? Championing the belief in a better world. Eorzea needs good folk like you, just as Ishgard needs the likes of Ser Aymeric and the Brume needs the likes of the Hounds.”

“Where’s this going, Hilda?”

“I’ve never seen a man quite as wretched as he was last night. Blamed it on guilt over the little sister’s injuries, but I reckon there was something else on his mind. Now this is none of my business, but did something happen with the pair of you?”

“You could say that.”

“Let me guess, he was a fucking fool, yeah?”

Aureia pauses, eyes wide.

Hilda grins at her, eyes shining with mirth and understanding. Linking her arm with hers, she resumes her purposeful stride. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have your back, Aur?” she says. “Listen. If you want my advice? Fuck him—”

Aureia chokes, laughter bubbling out of her. Her shoulders shake and she leans into Hilda for support. This is not where she thought this conversation would go.

“Maybe not literally,” Hilda continues, her lips twitching with amusement. “Definitely not literally, the man is a mess.”

“I know.”

They exit out of the shadows and turn down another street, heading for the Forgotten Knight. Aureia’s stomach is growling. It will be good to return home, take whatever food Gibrillont has on offer, and touch base with Tataru. She will no doubt know the logistics Alphinaud and Count Edmont have planned.

Guilt twinges in her gut. Though some tiny part of her is proud of putting her personal life first for once, she chose the wrong night to do it. In a way, she has let them both down. She hates to imagine Alphinaud, pale with worry about Alisaie and with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, taking command of the situation and formulating the plan. Too often logistics have come down to him, and while she trusts him with her life, he shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden alone. Edmont, too, has stepped up in her absence, playing his role as the responsible and generous noble benefactor.

She’s being too harsh, she knows she is. Edmont is a good man. House Fortemps will always stand by the Scions. She should be grateful for that. If he hadn’t offered, Alphinaud or Aymeric would have asked for his aid regardless. No airship can make its way to Xelphatol. The only way up the mountain is to fight their way through hordes of Ixali and the Fortemps knights are well-trained in that regard.

“Aur.” Hilda’s voice interrupts her thoughts, gentle but firm. They have reached the foot of a bridge, its span arching across the twisting city streets. “I should take my leave. Take care, yeah?”

Aureia smiles.

Hilda unlinks her arm and pulls her into an embrace. “Me and the Hounds will be waiting for you when you get back. Drinks on us this time, the whole crew. Don’t keep us waiting for long, you hear?”

She chuckles affectionately. “I hear.”

“Good. Say, you should stop by the Skysteel Manufactory sometime. I think Stephanivien would be pleased to me you, give you a lesson or two in how our firearms work. I reckon you’d make a fine machinist.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“If you ever feel the need to shoot something, say the word.”

Hilda releases her and draws back, a mischievous smirk on her face. She raises a hand in farewell and departs, disappearing across the grand thoroughfare. Smiling to herself, Aureia sets a foot on the bridge and climbs. There are few people about, and those who are pay her no heed. The sun shines brightly, the wind all but calm. If she didn’t know better, one could say it is as close to a spring day as Ishgard can get.

A shadow waits for her at the apex.

Her heart plummets. Thancred’s figure is unmistakable as he leans against the thick stone railing, arms folded across his chest. He watches the thin foot traffic with a narrowed eye, his eyepatch returned to its customary place. The hilts of his dual daggers glint in the harsh light. She doesn’t need to ask what that means—he is prepared to escort her to Camp Dragonhead and beyond, if needed.  

A creeping sense of déjà vu settles over her as she crests the bridge. She brushes it aside and squints, shielding her face with a hand. A day ago, she would be annoyed—angry, even. Now she feels nothing. Anger would be better than nothing.

“Thancred.”

“Aureia.”

The faint breeze tugs at her hair. She slows to a stop a foot away, arms folded and hands tucked into her armpits. She must keep things civil. Treat him normally. Perhaps if they pretend nothing happened, they can keep their working relationship intact. “How is Alisaie?” she asks.

“She dances on the edge of consciousness, straying in and out,” he replies curtly. “But the chirurgeons report that she has taken to the antidote well. She will recover. It is only a matter of time before she is on her feet once more.”

“I see. Is someone with her now?”

“Tataru has relieved us of infirmary duty, if that is what you ask.”

Her jaw clenches. “I only wanted to know if someone she knew was nearby. I would hate to be in her shoes, awaking in a strange city, no friends in sight. Or worse, a Fortemps brother.”

A measly, half-hearted joke. One made at the expense of Artoirel and Emmanellain. Haurchefant would chastise her gently for it. Gods, what is wrong with her?

He snorts. There’s no retort. No witty repartee. Instead, he stares intently at the bridge and the tenements beyond and the mountains beyond that. There’s a terrible yearning in his face, desire turned desperate. He may be here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. Ishgard is no place for him, not after his year in the wilds. Then again, perhaps there has never been a place for him. They both once called Ul’dah home, but it rang true for her in a way it did not to him. A city of import, yes, but he was only ever a passerby. He is a wanderer, always on the move. If he could up and disappear now, where would he go? He vanished and found Alisaie. Perhaps he will do something of the like again. Yda and Papalymo are still missing after all.  

Her heart pangs with grief. It has been so long since they were all together, gathered in Minfilia’s solar at the Rising Stones. A different age. A different life. Even should those who remain be reunited, it will never be the same.

“You were not at the meeting,” Thancred says.

She grimaces. “I wasn’t aware there was a meeting.”

“Perhaps you would have had you not disappeared.”

“Perhaps I should be free to go where I please and not where I’m expected. I’m not bound hand and foot to the Fortemps Manor.”

“Quite. Though you are not above aristocratic hospitality when another manor has caught your eye. Or so I hear.”

How the hells…? Not even day. Not one day and already he knows. Not one day and already he is judging her. Does his envy truly go that far? Did he expect her to chase him down at the infirmary after what happened in that alleyway? He gave her leave not to. He told her that if she did not come, that would be the end of it—

There it is. The anger, surging up out of her like a burst of mana.

She bites her tongue, desperate to keep her temper in check. How easy it is to simmer in her fury. Anger is powerful. Addictive. It is satisfying to ride the waves of her righteous anger, to give into it utterly. But behind the pleasure lies exhaustion.

Why is she angry? What does she blame him for? Fucking her friend behind her back? What happened between him and Hilda isn’t any of her business. The misguided kiss the night before? She fell for it as much as he did, it would be hypocritical to fault him for it without blaming herself. The cold shoulders and bitter remarks? Natural responses to the way she needles him. If he knows exactly where to press to make it hurt the most, she knows, too. Perhaps even better.

To try to unravel who wronged who first is impossible now.

Her heart seizes. It is as if a hand has reached directly into her chest and wrapped its fingers around it, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry,” she manages, the words rasped and raw. It isn’t good enough.  

“Thank you, Aureia darling—”

She scowls at the epithet, but says nothing. Either he forgot her request or he has ignored it on purpose.

“—I am certainly not the one who merits an apology. That would be Alphinaud. From what I hear the poor boy almost made himself ill with worry. For someone who fancies himself quite the leader, he was certainly discomforted with the notion of planning this endeavour without your gracious input.”

“Well, then I’m sorry for making Alphinaud uncomfortable.”

“He wished to stay at his sister’s side this morning. But a Scion’s presence was necessary, and so a Scion attended.”

“And you could not have attended? Your presence is as valuable as mine. If anything, you have a far more tactical mind than I.”

He glances sharply at her, brows drawn together. “A tactician? Hardly. Not after the mistakes I’ve made.”

“Give yourself more credit. You have a plan. I’m the person they send in to execute it.”

A pained look crosses his face and he turns away, dropping his gaze to the ground. He stares determinedly at the flagstones, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. She half expects him to shove off and abandon her then and there.

But he remains. Restless and fretting, deep concern plain on his face, but he stays all the same. For her.

“I know,” he says after a moment. “And I know how heavily the burden weighs on you.”

She pauses, hand brushing the hilt of her rapier. “I’ll stop them. I promise. I haven’t forgiven them for kicking your ass in Dravania—”

“Hey now.” He makes a face and runs a hand sheepishly through his hair. “I seem to recall events quite differently. I dealt them a blow that time, not the other way around.”

His fingers catch on the knotted tail at the nape of his neck. She remembers all too well what it felt like to rake her fingers through his hair, the elated feeling of tugging that tie free. A memory she should set aside along with that blasted kiss.

Her feelings for him are a dead end. Unwanted and unjustified. Why should she chase the fleeting remains of their broken friendship when Aymeric—good, kind Aymeric—is in love with her? He offers her something that Thancred is incapable of giving. She cannot relinquish her one chance at happiness. Not when she is with someone who has shown her so much grace and compassion. She can’t imagine anyone doing for her what Aymeric did last night.

She is lucky to have found such fervent love in this bitter, wretched world. It may never come again.  

There is nothing Thancred can give her. No desperate touch can mend their relationship, no fervent kiss can restore them to who they were that night in the waterways. If he wanted her then—if he loved her then—he should have said it.

It is too late now.

She exhales a long breath. “If you say so.”

Aureia and Thancred fall silent, neither one keen to look the other in the face. The bright sun beats down on them, happy and hopeful, oblivious to the tension between them. To the outside observer they may be no more than passing acquaintances engaging in idle small talk, awkwardly waiting for an opportunity to exit the conversation. But to someone with a keen eye and an ironshod heart, they are no more than two sides of the same coin bent on moving in divergent directions.

This is an ending.

It will be a long time before either of them understands the truth of it.

Notes: I’ve had this fic spinning in my head off and on since January 2023 and I’m really happy that I’ve finally been able to bring it to fruition. Aureia and Aymeric near and dear to me—even though they have their issues and it’s not going to be an easy ride since the fundamental problem with their relationship is that he loves her more than she can love him in return. I’m excited to explore more of their dynamic in the future; they have a whole saga throughout the rest of Heavensward and all of Stormblood and I’m ready to dig my teeth into it. As for Aureia and Thancred... there will be a few more bumps in their journey before they get there. Thank you so much for reading! This is my favourite fic I’ve written in a long time, I’m very happy with it. I hope you enjoyed. 💖

[caroloftheshells]

long elaborate "stuff of the year" post

life events...

started dating my awesome partner!

became an aunt!

2 of my good friends got married to their partners!

had covid twice! (once was technically a holdover from last december)

presented at conferences in person for the first time!

finished coursework, studied for comprehensive exams, and passed said exams!

new games...

sound voltex exceed gear (there is a cabinet in an arcade i go to almost every thursday now)

inscryption (not done with it yet! thus, do not tell me anything about this game lol)

red dragon inn

secret hitler

exceed (w/guilty gear & blazblue character decks)

concept

hues & cues

three sisters

azul (the one my sib has is the chocolate edition)

music... [here begin the lists of official Favorites as opposed to just Stuff Done]

"top songs": bunker (pva) / cherry (daphni) / cujo kiddies (disq) / mighty cloud (wooze) / o.k. (yellow magic orchestra) / flowers (cibo matto) / ebony eye (yves tumor) / i'll have what she's having (wooze) / ice age (how to destroy angels) / le pain perdu (cibo matto)

favorite albums that came out this year: i killed your dog (l'rain), masego (masego), dream in dream (cornelius), that! feels good! (jessie ware), the age of pleasure (janelle monáe)

favorite albums that didn't come out this year: cherry (daphni), va-11 hall-a ost (garoad), safe in the hands of love (yves tumor), bitter (meshell ndegeocello)

honorable mention bullet point: i got mad about somebody's incorrect tier ranking of steely dan songs on youtube and my partner & i collaboratively settled on a new (song-by-song) ranking of their output through two against nature. this meant listening to said whole discography which truly has some epic highs and lows a la high school football. the fact that pearl of the quarter and king of the world coexist on the same album... bewildering

movies... in general did not watch as many this year as last so this will be a shorter list, & not ranked, but some of the ones i liked were

first reformed

all that jazz

ju-on / the grudge

across the spiderverse

john wick 1-3

he got game

we're all going to the world's fair

skinamarink

talk to me

the others

godzilla minus one

tv...

fma 2003 and i think that's it?

books... see this post which was my comps reading list. but the biggest props in terms of full-length books go to

rationalizing culture (born)

birds of fire (fellezs)

living genres in late modernity (kronengold)

industry (robin)

[positivexcellence]

towwn:  yes, it *is* possible to fashionably hibernate while supporting ethical, earth-minded companies. here, cozy sustainable sweaters that are forever stables in our winter wardobe.👚♻️🌎 @everlane these sweaters are soft, cozy, & often made from a combo of organic cotton, recycled cashmere and wool. these fabrics, along with ecomade polyester, recycled nylon & elastane help to reduce the impact of their production. we love the renew teddy oversized crew; it’s a cool, signature look. @reformation by using using sustainable materials, rescued deadstock fabric, repurposed vintage finds + producing goods locally, they’re able to reduce the carbon emissions and ensure positive social impact throughout the supply chain. @longwharfsupply recycled h20 bottles + oyster shells are used to craft these innovative garments. we appreciate these efforts to reseed oyster reefs & filter seawater to boost marine ecosystem health. plus, the classic seawell collection is cozy like your mom or dad’s vintage sweater – and it has a quantifiable impact on the environment & vulnerable communities. @parisienne_et_alors by supporting the french textile industry & using organic materials, the co. is helping to reduce its carbon footprint and minimize the eco-impact of its wares. via collaborations with @wwf + @nomoreplasticco the brand supports good causes and crafts chic sweaters. @madewell many of their most popular sweater & cardigan designs are made from earth-friendy materials, for example lenzing ecovero viscose and sustainable cashmere wool certified through the aid by trade foundation, which promotes animal welfare, improves the working conditions of farmers + protects the environment. @eileenfisherrenew In addition to using organic + safely dyed fabrics, the brand’s take back program allows clothes to be returned, cleaned, refashioned, or repaired & resold under the co.’s renew label to reduce waste + extend the life of many lovely sweaters. @naadam.co using traceable, renewable + recycled materials while embracing circular design principles, and investing in the communities that provide raw materials, nadaam is serious about style + reducing its enviro-impact.

[askthedealmaker-idv]

how much souls.. for the dog!!?

. . . . .

there seemed to be little reaction from the dealmaker other than a few blinks, before a small frown flashed on his face as he shook his head lightly - leaning over to the left side of the counter where an empty space that presumably lead to the room behind was. snapping his fingers, a few wooden planks flew out from the back - spinning around for a brief moment as the same golden light that was used for the building’s entrance began to faintly glow before it brightened, directing and reforming the wood into a sign with words ‘painted’ onto it that shined - wick is not an available wish. said dog yelped a bit in surprise, hopping down from their stool and looking over at the sign.

leaning back over to face the other, the dealmaker shifted his arms behind his back and snapped.

as I have said before - I will not accept any deals regarding wick’s residence. they will stay with me inside of otis, no matter how many souls you may offer - it will not be entertained.

specter tilted his head thoughtfully with a small sigh before snapping again.

but perhaps I could interest you in my wares nonetheless? it would be much better if you left with something that you can keep, dear customer. why not look more around? all except for wick is for your viewing.

. . . . .

[witch-and-her-witcher]

oh lord, i’m finally releasing this to the public eye ... based on this ficlet, although i’ve adjusted for a more in-depth plot.

Vires Acquirit Eundo 

Geralt/Eskel | M (most chapters are T) | knight!AU, slow burn, mutual pining

--

The pristine walls of the fortress loom imperially over the sprawling city of Spalla, recently refreshed and aiding the city’s image of reinvigoration. Spalla has seen a boon of growth since the clean-up work of criminal bands running the area accomplished over the last decade. Safe streets led to more and varied merchants bringing in their wares for the wealthy tax collectors and their friends and family that resided in the region - sharing their own post-war wealth.

The bustling economy and image of class the city now touted in turn attracted young peasants who had grown tired of ploughing fields by observing the older generations cyclical lifestyle. Plough, sow, tend, harvest, rinse and repeat while procreating vigorously to replace those who died at the whim of the lower-class fate. Filled with youthful optimism and lured by fantasies of a material lifestyle, a working class grew to rival the well-established ones within Rivia.

The gears of a healthy Realm turned successfully. All in all, Spalla’s improvement was as shining an achievement under Queen Meve’s rule as the defense of the Twin Kingdoms against the Nilfgaardian invasion.

Despite Geralt’s personal involvement in these accomplishments, there isn’t much appreciation this evening for the cleared streets of the city or the promise of further growth with new education reforms passing in Court. Hood pulled down low to hide his distinctive features, he sits brooding in the corner of the Fishbone Inn and Tavern.

He’s had one too many ales down already and he’s yet to wave the barmaid off when she suggests getting him another.

“An odd feller, out of towner,” the old shoe peddler had told him earlier that day, “He’ll be at the Fishbone, meeting with potential clients.”

The shoe peddler wasn’t known as a reliable information source, but Geralt’s desperate. He came to the Fishbone despite his own rationale in hopes he might find anything - even a whiff of treachery or illegal activity afoot.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters under his breath. There’s still no obvious foreigner, no trace of hope of bringing justice …

continue reading on ao3

[nongnaos]

So @grapejuicegay asked about the colour theory of Teacher Sani and Waree wearing blue and red repectively during the scene where the protestors fake/doll body is burned. I theorised that red stood for progress and change (and generally Ayan), while blue is clearly for Suppalo, tradition and opression. So why would Sani wear blue and Waree red in this fairly pivotal scene? Honestly, I don't think its hugely clear but I'm giving it a guess.

(I go through about 4 hours of research into Thai clothing and colour theory and this post gets long so I'm warning you now.)

In terms of Teacher Waree, the colour of her clothes doesn't seem to matter hugely, its constantly changing and always very vivid colours, but the style stays almost exactly the same. The fabric and cut of her clothes are always almost identical, and are a take on traditional clothing.

Wait, hold up, I started doing a little research to find out more about this style of traditional clothing and it's fascinating. (Before we get into this, for age reference, the actress that plays Waree was born in 1980) So, in 1932, Field Marshal Plaek (yes, that Field Marshall Plaek, who Waree gave us a class on, more on this later) was one of the leaders in part of the People's Party who stage a coup and overthrew the absolute monarchy to create a "constitutional monarchy" where a government and the monarchy work together. In 1938 he becomes the Prime Minister and, as The Eclipse points out, this guy was a military dictator and the monarchy's power was pretty much wiped out. During this term in office, from 1938-1944, he set up some cultural mandates known as the Thai Cultural Revolution, one of which was about Thai dress, in an attempt to modernize and westernize them. From wiki:

"Appropriate dress for Thai people consists of:

"Uniforms, as position and opportunity permits;

"Polite international-style attire;

"Polite traditional attire."

He becomes Prime Minister again for 1948-1957, during which a new King and Queen are sworn in. In the 1960's they feel the need to also try to reform Thai dress. The Queen creates a national Thai costume with 8 separate outfits for women in an attempt to create unity in the Thai identity. One of which is the Thai Chitlada:

One article I read talked about this style being somewhat similar to a men's traditional outfit. Described as "A mandarin-collared, five-button jacket, the Rajpattern was inspired by colonial British dignitaries' style (the biggest of yikes) and brought to Thailand through India". Similar to a Nehru jacket.

Which is wild, on one hand you have a dictator who is all for Thai nationalism trying to modernize clothing by Westernizing it who gets kicked out of his position. On the other a Queen using the help of a French designer to create traditional-inspired modern Thai clothes based on fabrics of extant garments from the Royal Treasury, but with some of the style influenced by uhh.. the british military? If anyone knows more please feel free to tell me, my ask box is always open and my mind is always empty. This is literally a 1am rabbithole of wikipedia and fashion blogs.

Back to Teacher Waree! When she's talking about Plaek and uniforms to the students, Ayan asks her if she thinks students should still wear uniforms to which she says yes, to maintain orderliness. Which is funny to me because she is someone who is wearing probably overly formal clothing in a school which seemingly has some sort of black uniform that she.. doesn't wear. Literally just "I like uniforms" "so does dictator Plaek" "well, I don't wear them!".

So, I feel like generally her outfits are made in a style that represents traditional views, and perhaps the colours are more in line with "traditional femininity". Except that one flashback where they're interviewing Sani for the job and Waree is wearing a Suppalo Suit and honestly maybe they just knew seeing her in actual suits would be too much for my gay brain to handle bc she's just so hot.

(them mad ms paint skillz)

(Took a break, painted some walls, lost power due to a storm, came back probably loopy from paint fumes and tiredness.. bon appetit)

So, for Teacher Sani, she tends to wear fairly neutral colours: white, light pink, black, and green but she does have a pale blue suit and a dark blue/navy one which she wears when Wat starts talking to her about being unhappy and wanting to make films. As she walks away after talking to Wat you can see she's wearing heels that are black but with a red sole. like a Louboutin (bottom right, if you squint).

So I think her wearing a fair amount of red and blue is probably to show her inner conflict between following Suppalo's rules and wanting change/desire to help the students. She's sometimes show physically on the side of the students, standing with them and often against Chadok.

Which is also the case during the doll burning where she's standing with the protestors and against Chadok and Waree. Interestingly, Thua and Namo are both standing beside Chadok, so a point towards the theory of either or both of them being the second Suppalo curse executer.

Also she's always shown wearing a star necklace. I don't know that that has any specific relevance to the plot but it carries on the planet aesthetic and it's very cute.

One last thing I looked up was the use of colour in Thai culture, and there's a specific difference between blue, light blue, and dark blue and also a difference between red and orange-red. (Decide for yourself if Waree's one red outfit veers more towards the orange-red spectrum. Pls ignore my insane editing of these images though.) These also correspond to specific days with some colours being lucky or unlucky on certain days and different on others. For example, on Sunday, red is lucky and blue is unlucky. Blue is never lucky, but light blue is. The same article says that "Color symbolism in Thailand is heavily influenced by political parties. Red is connected to the People’s Alliance for Democracy. The party is against monarchy and promotes democracy. This party’s followers wear red color clothing during demonstrations and public gatherings to show their support. " So they really were not being subtle at all with these choices.

Some final thoughts, Sani usually pairs her blue suit with a dark red lipstick, which I love.

Also when she first joins the school she seems to be wearing more neutral colours and gets pulled more towards blue and red as she goes. One of the first times she joins the other teachers she's wearing white while everyone else is wearing black except Waree in her bright pink. Also, and its very hard to get a picture of, the female teachers all have pink or light purple rectangle lunchboxes, while the male teachers all have blue or green rectangle lunchboxes. Except Sani who has one of those stackable round ones in plain metal AND Waree who has a similar round one but with a blue floral design.

So there's the similar lunchboxes and both of them wearing multiple of the same outfits in block colours, with Waree's being vibrant and Sani's typically being more muted. If Chadok is who Akk could become if he stays in this system, I'd wager that Waree is who Sani could become if she also bends to this school's will.

Finally, let's just have a moment for the prettiest of all the outfits so far:

[odishadetails]

Madhusudan Das

Madhusudan Das

Madhusudan Das (28 April 1848 – 4 February 1934) was an Indian lawyer and social reformer, who founded Utkal Sammilani in 1903 to campaign for the unification of Odisha along with its.. social and industrial development. He was one of the prominent figure, helping in the creation of Orissa Province (present-day Odisha, India), which was established on 1 April 1936. He was also the first graduate and advocate of Orissa. He is also known as Kulabruddha (Grand Old Man),

MADHUSUDAN DAS ALL ODIA BOOK AVAILABLE Madhu Babu, and Utkal Gouraba (Pride of Utkal). In Odisha, his birthday is celebrated as the Lawyers' Day on 28 April.

Family-

Madhusudan Das was born 28 April 1848 at Satyabhamapur, 20 kilometres (12 mi) from Cuttack during the Company rule in India in a Zamindari Karana family.His father was Choudhury Raghunath Das and his mother, Parvati Devee. They had initially named him Gobindaballabh. He had two elder sisters and a younger brother named Gopalballabh. Gopalballabh was a Magistrate at Bihar Province and the father of Ramadevi Choudhury. He was converted to Christianity that caused him boycotted in the village which he had to quit to erect a small house at the end of the village. The house was known as ‘Madhukothi’ or ‘Balipokharikothi’, later on used as the state office of the Kasturba National Memorial Trust, in a part of which was running the Anganabadi, Balbadi. Madhusudan had adopted two Bengali girls; Sailabala Das and Sudhanshubala Hazra. Sailabala was an educationist who had been trained in England, and in whose name the famous Sailabala Women's College of Cuttack was founded.Sailabala was Bengali, and her parents had left her in the care of Madhusudan Das and his wife Soudamini Devi at Calcutta. In 1864, he passed Matriculation from Cuttack and thereafter he was inclined to become a teacher and began his career as a teacher at Balasore for three years. The year 1866 was the year of a acute famine in Odisha, called the "Naanka Durviksha" When more than one lakh people died of hunger. This year he converted himself to Christian and changed his name as Madhusudan Das from his earlier name of Gobinda Ballav Choudhury.

Political career--

Known as 'Madhu Babu' by the common people, he worked for the political, social and economical upliftment of the people of Orissa and worked as a lawyer, journalist, legislator, politician and social reformer. He founded Utkal Sammilani which brought a revolution in the social and industrial development of Orissa. He was elected as a member of the legislative council of Bihar and Orissa Province and under the Diarchy scheme of Government of India Act, 1919, he was appointed as Minister for Local Self-Government, Medical Public Health, Public Works in 1921. He was the first Odia to become a member of both the legislative council and the Central Legislative Assembly of India. He founded Utkal Sammilani (Utkal Union Conference) which laid the foundation of Odia nationalism. Utkal Sammilani spearheaded the demand for unification of Odia speaking areas under a single administration. This led to the formations of state of Odisha on 1 April 1936. He was also the first Odia to travel to England. He founded the Utkal Tannery in 1905, a factory producing shoes and other leather products. In 1897 he founded the ODISHA Art Ware Works. With his support, the Tarakasi(filigree) work of silver ornaments achieved commendable feet.

Contribution to literature--

As a writer and poet, patriotism was always at the forefront of his mind, and that was reflected in all of his literary works. He penned a number of articles and poems in both English and Odia. Some of his important poems are "Utkal Santan", "Jati Itihash" and "Jananira Ukti". He was also an influential speaker in Odia, Bengali and English.

Last years--

He died on 4 February 1934 at the age of 85.

[hotgirlmythology]

haha i LIED no mythology for you get worldbuilt

The Minashuni "Empire" (one city and several villages, but they call themselves an empire from being fabulously wealthy) is a powerful coastal trading city famous for its incredibly efficient silk production and rich dyes brought down from the north when they got invaded by a highly militarised northern tribal confederation. Barely anything about the city itself changed because it was only rich due to its culture, and the confederation had the presence of mind to realise that replacing it would tear apart the city overnight. Instead, some integrated alongside the already very multicultural city, and most went off to scour the nearby land for rich pickings and tended to settle in the villages nearby. Try as they might, as the nominal conquerors took up their place in the governing and working of the city, some of their culture was woven in too. It became more militaristic, and has begun to occupy the island archipelago to its south.

Ok but this is nothing to do with that instead it is about Tum'jai, empress of Minashun, 2nd of her name (and by far the greater), the Silken Wave (and the Rotten Flower to her detractors), Tum'jai the Lover. She didn't start the invasion of the Kanarma archipelago, but it was her that brought its largest province of Lodmia to its knees by revealing to the ruling pair the husband's infidelity (with herself, of course) and thus rupturing it into civil war over if the child should be allowed to inherit. Far from her most impressive victory, she reformed the marriage laws her distant northern ancestors had put in place generations ago, so that no citizen of the city needed worry about being forced together with a partner they had never loved, or no longer loved. She held court every two months for those few designers of clothes serving absolutely no purpose but to look nice to display their wares to whatever gathered dignitaries and local nobles happened to be present (much of which she would buy herself, leaving a huge amount of her finances invested in a gigantic wardrobe of clothes she barely wore, but equally turned a blind eye to her army of maids "borrowing" from), and it was her patronage that protected many of them through the brief but scarring naval blockade mounted by Tenathra and Quam'la (most western islands of the Kanarma archipelago and the ones best placed to disrupt trade to Galania, among others). She negotiated trade deals, undermining the overconfident emissaries of kings eager to leap on a war-torn economy for cheap silk with honeyed words, honeyed wine and honeyed nights, causing them to leave scratching their heads as to why they were now buying silk for more than they had been beforehand.

By the time she died of food poisoning at the age of 39, having abdicated at just 36 due to the pressure from her advisers to put her more warlike son on the throne and reinvigorate the stagnating Kanarman occupation, the stories about her had almost turned into myth (which annoyed the current emperor no end), and more than a few were pretty true. She turned heads as she entered a room, she had once courted six men at once, to which they had thanked her for giving them a chance. She had tied herself to the bowsprit of a ship as the figurehead after one of the sailors made an offhand remark about her making a better figurehead than the carved siren that was painted there previously, followed by him being thoroughly lashed by the empress herself for treason. Her boldness in all respects, towards any gender, of any station, inspired an entire cultural revolution around the dynamics in heterosexual relationships, and between men and women in general. When she died, in the middle of a renewed propaganda and military campaign against Kanarma, people stopped, for an hour or a day or a week, and wondered how they had gone from an empress who threw herself passionately into life to man who threw himself just as passionately towards death. And then they went back to hating everyone who didn't live in their city and surrounding villages, because there really was a lot of propaganda. The name stuck though. Empress Tum'jai II, the Lover. No ruler before or since had that title, but there really was not one more appropriate.

[thewaywardhealers]

Lorna lay in repose. Her belongings had been all but packed and her time in Arbor would find its zenith. She was still weak, but her wounds had finally healed close, the poison of Sadira's blade all but siphoned from her body. She had taken full advantage of Dominic's strength, and he had packed both their things, while women ogled at the bare chested man, and she watched from the shadows. She heard whispers, talk of a magical redhead here and felt the tiniest twinge of response. And lost herself to her past thoughts. Past memories of a time when life was quite different. Pink Dust.

Pink Dust born to Sierra Blake, sister to Bianca, sister to Mavis, sister to Ayla, sister to Edith. The last born daughter to Sierra. Touched by fire, in more ways than one. Her destiny was said to be that of a life of both intrigue and turmoil. Her childhood one of love and learning the healing arts with her sisters, and honored mother. Her teen years proved different, something she always kept hidden now. For death would not be allowed to change her path. But it did. Pink's life became one of collar and chains, stubbornly believing it was love. The healer that was Pink Dust thought she was living happily, despite the maltreatment. Despite life amongst the black sands, of the Beachside Castle, where she learned not just to heal, but to cater to men and women of all kinds and trade. Jormun was his name, The Scaly King. And Pink thought it was love. The harem of the Beachside Castle was renown. The secrets of Kings, Queens, princes, princesses, noblemen and women was their currency. The Castle thrived under the overbearing thumb of Jormun.

Until it did not, and unwarranted bruises were the norm for Pink. Jormun had begun to thrive in hurting her. And when his malfience turned to the other in his harem, it was over. And Pink Dust found herself the rightful owner of the Beachside Castle in Basildon. The redhead could not forget that she was ruling with bloodstained hands, yet she would rule differently. All were given a choice. Some chose to follow the skin trade, some left with gold and wares to find their lives, and some even chose to learn the healing arts from Pink. Her conscience plagued her, even as fewer visitors found their way to the weather beaten Beachside Castle. It remained opulent, despite its outward appearance, none of it though could wash away the memory of what she had done. In the beginning she had convinced herself it was done for good reasons, that it was the only solution. And only one solution came to mind.

Jormun had made many enemies amongst the trade, he stole, he killed for the best, and his harem had been amongst the elite. Pink traveled with him, as his personal medicine woman, and saw sands of many different colors, and remembered. Steeling herself, she took the last of her harem with her across the sands and found her way amongst the sands of Sienna, to the Harem of Qadesh, and to Clara Rose.

And her decision would be a gamble. Her small battered harem traveled, leaving the black sands behind. She found herself instead on the blue sands of The Badlands of Azure Bay, and with Clara Rose. Pink shared her truth with her, told her what she knew she already knew, and a barter was made. The Beachside Castle and the black sands for a chance at a new life. Where Pink Dust would be no more.

The Rings of Isis were those who were imbued with a magic like no other, an almost god-like power to create change, all for a sacrifice. The ritual was tedious, long, and as tears streamed down her eyes, Pink Dust began to fade away.

Features reformed, and kept hidden for a full moon, she would emerge. Still a firestarter, but a redhead no more.

"What shall be your new name?" She was asked. She remembered her sisters, and her mother, lost to her. They were a lifetime ago she felt, but they were with her, "I have chosen to bear my family name. And my name shall be Lorna, Lorna Blake."

[going-petri]

A lab empty of human life, something must have happened here, but you don't think to investigate further into that. Empty glass ware of test tubes and beakers fill the place, except for one. A rounded beaker filled shallowly with an orange substance, it seems to have a higher viscosity than water, not thinking twice you pour it out onto the dusty countertop, the slime forming into a 4.3 cm tall being, it seems to mimic a human body. Made you should see what it can do...

(extra info, tag list and more under the cut!)

Hiya! Welcome to this little rp blog this is number... Uhh idfk that @maxthelocalemeraldmayor owns.

Rules:

NO NSFW PLEASE! I AM VERY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT

Do not ask for any private info from the blog owner, it makes me uncomfortable.

I allow magic anons! What those are is you send an anonymous ask with a prompt like: petri is now [insert whatever] for [number of asks]

Info about muse and refrences

They can expand in water, kinda like an orbeez ball if you leave them in it for long enough.

They can reform limbs if anything happens to it.

Petri uses he/him, they/them, it/it's pronouns!

They are 4.3 cm tall

First photo is a drawing reference. Second is an anatomy one showing how they eat and drink.

Tag list:

[TESTING IN PROGRESS] - rp threads!

[HYPOTHESIS FABRICATION] - rp prompts!

[SUBJECTS RESPONSE] - asks!

[BEHAVIOR STUDY] - little random in character posts, you can interact with these and turn them into rp threads!

Ooc - out of character posts, or extra lore.

[asharinhun]

DWC Day 5 - Shiver

tw: mental torture (void related, non-descriptive)

"Ah, potential customer…" The goblin muttered to himself as the cloaked person walked in. An elf, the ears have away that much at least.

"That depends on your wares." A two-toned voice replied, and he felt a chill run down his spine as the echo tone came from every shadow in the room. That cannot be... right? Right?

"W-what... what do you want?" Lazlo finally found his voice to ask, taking a careful step away from the elf.

"Information. A certain little birdie told me you have it in spades... and I want to find someone."

The goblin exhaled a little in relief, he might be able to actually make a deal. There would be no profit this time, no question, that... but the sooner this creepy elf leaves the better.

"Give me a name or description. Can't help you otherwise." He crossed his arms, his business persone slowly reasserting itself.

"Don't even think about tricking me... or sell information about me." Lazlo found himself lifted at the throat by a slender hand as an all-too sweet voice whispered into his ear.

The elf woman no longer wore her cloak - where did it disappear to, and when - and he found his gaze captured by the sapphire glow of her left eye, the right closed by a scar running across almost horizontally over her nose and eyelid, just above her eyelashes and even took a piece from her right ear.

He could barely manage a franctic nod in his position.

Legana narrowed her eye and finally dropped him.

"I'm looking for my older sister. Nevana Al'Vera. A tall blood elf, with auburn hair usually in a ponytail, a cross-shaped across her own right eye. She usually wears blue or green ranger gear."

Lazlo was still sitting on the ground, massaging his throat. He had half a mind to give false information to the void bitch, she'd have no idea he'd lied.

He was made to focus again as the ren'dorei rogue twisted his face to look at her, deep into the leaking orb of void magic sitting in Legana's right eyesocket. Into the cold, swirling darkness.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but when it was finally over, Lazlo collapsed to the ground in a shivering heap.

"Tell me what you know, now. And only the truth, mind you... unless you want to repeat the experience." Legana chuckled, head tilted and ears slightly perked up in amusement. The ren'dorei's gaze returned to 'normal' with her right eye -thankfully- closed.

"N-n-north...! S-she went n-north! T-towards H-hyjal! T-that's all I know! I-I s-swear!" He could barely make the words through chittering teeth.

"Good boy." Legana patted his cheek affectionately and tossed a small sack of coins on his desk. "Your payment... and you know the deal, I was never here, you never met me."

Lazlo nodded franctically, wrapping his arms around his body to stop shivering, but it was pointless.

Legana just grinned, showing her fangs as her void-cloak reformed around her. "If you say otherwise, I will knoo-ooow~!" She added in a sing-song voice as she started walking not towards the door, rather to the deepest shadow in the corner of the room and vanished into it.

The goblin only dared to watch from the corner of his eyes as the rogue left -if she truly did- and managed to crawl to the door to flip the sign to 'Closed'. He was done for the day.

"Ugh... I'm not gettin' paid enough for this." Lazlo muttered as he made the way to the back of the building, into his private room and crawled under his blanket. Try as he might, he still couldn't stop shivering from fear.

_

@daily-writing-challenge