#one if by land

[autumnignited]

Things I can do now that I’m done with my PhD: get back to writing about Keith absolutely hating being in 1773.

‘One if by Land’ chapter 4 has two more scenes to go until it’s ready, and it’s already at 12.5k words :3 While you wait, why not re-read chapters 1-3?

[twosides--samecoin]

I visited the law office of Wonderful, Talented, Intelligent & Beautiful Wife, Attorney at Law (where @edaworks is employed, you see) and I finally got to see her painting of her Sole Survivor, Nora 🖤

[fallout-fallen-knight]

Meet Kristine!

... again. A redesigned Kristine Finch for the modren era for the lesbians honestly I wanted to play Sim Settlements but I had already committed too much to my last save. Her story is more or less the same as detailed here, or at least not so different that i feel like explaining here, but this Kristine has a few more (visible) scars, as well as tattoos that are of course completely covered up by her clothing.

[femalebookworm]

MC: Winland Underwood

Let's go, without reading any summaries but glancing long enough on the About This Book card/tab on Kindle, the non surprise is here, book 1/8 In the Chronicles of Winland Underwood, with a 5h55m typical reading time, and 296 pages. And I was naughty, so I began reading while Kindle was connected to power (the battery is shit already, so let's embrace chaos completely).

Leading a group of refugees toward a ghost town was probably the best decision Winland ever made. The camaraderie between all characters was refreshing. The humor was outright crazy but welcomed, and the sobering danger Winland was in, balanced all out. The multiple POVs from all characters were a nice touch. From evil to good, from heart to tree; everyone had a voice. The last page, a hunter is now after Winland. Will their home remain, or the refugees will have to scatter again? Or will this hunter open his eyes? I don't know. I just know that THIS volume had everything. Even a battle of power and a crimson heart.

This review seems to be all over the place, yes? But hey – it's midnight. I ain't got the time, my muse is asleep, and this whole wall of text is all "matter of fact".

Off I go towards a new book. Bye.

[perfectlyripeclementine]

calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion.

[firbolgfriend]

Mlp infected aus that just erase Discord from existence is so funny, he would shut that shit down so fast. Not even all that for the sake of friendship or whatever he’d see it and be like erm… not really my cup of chaos, this is just gross (snap, fixed)

[onenicebugperday]

Candy cane snail, Liguus virgineus, Orthalicidae

This arboreal species is found in Haiti and the Dominican Republic

Photo 1 by pedrogenarorodriguez and 2 by margomora

[egophiliac]

LET THE BOY HAVE AN EDUCATION

officially at the point where we're starting to see where it's all headed and I am just going NYEEHEEHEE in delight at it all. ahhh...next week can't come soon enough...

[bleakbluejay]

you motherfuckers have no concept of what "land back" or "decolonize" even mean. you're too busy demonizing entire groups of people, terrified, shitting yourselves, that they'll do even half of the horrors to you that you've done to them for decades or centuries. this shit comes off as hella racist for real. you hate arabs so much. you hate first nations people so much. you hate black people so much. even if you sympathize with them, you can't fucking bear the idea of them gaining freedom, independence, autonomy, safety, because you're so, so scared they'll hurt you back and cause chaos in the streets. these same people who just want to rebuild. who just want to go home. who just want to see their families again. who just want food. who just want medical care. who just want dry, warm shelter. you're so focused on the ideas of colonization, of "us vs. them", of one people displacing the other for a state to exist, that you cannot comprehend coexistence, and your only idea of peace is if an entire group of people were just gone and dead.

grow the fuck up. for the love of GOD, grow the fuck up.

[bluegiragi]

cockatrice (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[twosides--samecoin]

Cool perks of being married to a fellow Fallout fic writer-

Talks about how the universe works (or, how it should work if the world of Fallout had any realism to it)

Having a safe person who can help you worldbuild who can respect Things You Can't Share

SCHEMES! Cool things are afoot!! Cool plans with my wife @edaworks !!!

[inkskinned]

for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.

i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.

in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.

the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.

i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.

i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.

i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.

the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.

when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.

we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.

[turtlespancake]

i love seeing out of context posts about long-running stories with deep lore because it's always shit like "MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!! i can't believe that the metallic athenaeum's envoy actually used never-ending dance of the 57th universe on rionne as if she's not LITERALLY the incarnate of august?!?!" it's like buddy boy thank you for the spoiler tag but all of those words are incomprehensible without at least 5 years of foreshadowed knowledge, 7 different fan theories, and 21 wiki entries

[dykealloy]

[wombywoo]

spring 🌼🌧️

[markscherz]

BOOPHIS SNOOT!

Specifically, an undescribed Boophis from the B. goudotii species group that I discovered in 2015/2016.