#you have to wonder just how sacred this land really is to you if you're willing to do this much crime directly against g-d on and over it

[t4tvglow]

z.ionism in the tags, tbd

[arminsumi]

Heyy iam a big fan and omg- i really love ur workkkkkkk and everything 😭😭😭😭 i wan wondering if u can make

Husband gojo x fem reader after care

Like taking bath tougher helping u to dress up and moree plzz plzz😭😭🌸

And tysmmmmmmm

AFTERCARE

GOJO さとる

Note : ah thank you!! 💗😣 i love this request, aftercare is so nice to write i rlly should consider adding more aftercare scenes to my smut. thank u!!

Warnings : 🔞 mdni/18+, aftercare

He lovingly feels up and massages your sweaty body with his pale, veiny hands, going back and forth on your thighs and applying more pressure when you groan in relief at certain points.

"Where are my panties?" you ask.

"I have no idea." he chuckles.

Satoru lets you catch your breath while he searches the bed for your panties. He starts giggling and so do you — for some reason your panties always vanish; they go from dangling on your ankle to being haphazardly tossed off by your man (maybe landing on the lampshade) or being buried under the covers.

"Found them." Satoru giggles harder, "They were under the pillow this time."

When you stand, you feel a burn in your thigh muscles and complain loudly "My legs!"

Satoru makes a guilty smile. "Don't look at me, I have nothing to do with it."

He acts like he's not responsible for making your legs wobbly even though he's the one who's been manhandling you into positions on his cock for the past hour.

Satoru runs a bubble bath and gets a little crazed when he sees you getting in. He unashamedly checks out your ass and makes a low whistle.

He has to help you lower yourself into the tub, because you're feeling unsteady and sore after taking him.

"Careful, don't slip." it's these little, under-the-breath comments that show how gentle Satoru is as a lover.

He's always thinking of your comfort after sex, and during it, with his asks of "Is it too much?" or "Should I go slower?" or "Are you tired, wanna stop?"

Aftercare with Satoru feels sacred. He lovingly cares for your body like it's a divine creature gifted to him from heaven. He gives you these cascading caresses down your arms to soothe them, because he knows they must be sore after he pulled them behind your back while taking you from behind earlier.

He starts giving you a massage while in the bath without you needing to ask — he knows you need it, and he wants to do it.

He's smirking against the back of your ear "Ooh, found ya weak spot." when you moan at the influence of his hands.

"I remember before we were engaged, you were embarrassed about showing me your soft cock—" you tease.

"—I WAS NOT!"

"Haha! Yes you were. You always pulled out super quickly and wrapped the sheets around your waist as if you would just die of embarrassment if I saw it soft."

He washes your hair and happily puts up with your teasing in the bathtub about the days when you two were just dating.

"You were such an idiot in love." you say.

"What do you mean? I'm still an idiot in love." he beams, sneaking a cheek kiss from behind. "I'm always dumb for you."

You nod, "Mhm. A dumb husband."

"Excuse me, "a" husband? YOUR husband, you mean."

You sigh at him. "I'm getting out the bath."

He wraps his arms around your chest tightly, one hand possessively cupping your breast. You feel his wet torso pressing against your back, firm and wet and soap-sudsy.

"Nooo, stay. There's still bubbles." he says.

"It's getting cold in here, you idiot!"

"But the bubbles!!"

He insists that you hold onto his bicep while stepping out the bath. He doesn't want you to slip. (He also just loves the feeling of your small hands grabbing his bicep and wishes you'd do it more often.)

"What else is your big, handsome, muscular husband for?"

"Shut up before I turn you into a big, handsome, muscular ex-husband."

He grins at you and wraps a towel around your body.

"No, you shut up before I take you back to bed for round two." he threatens playfully.

"You wouldn't..."

Satoru picks you up and takes you back to the bed.

But no, he hears your complaints about being sore and tired and quickly tucks you into the soft bed.

"Satoru, I'm tired."

"Yes I know, buttercup. You stay right here 'n I'll get you a water."

So he does. You take tiny sips that he thinks are adorable. He stares at your throat as you swallow a big gulp, and the sound makes him wiggle his brow. You smack him.

"Damn, you're a thirsty slut." he jokes when you finish the whole glass of water.

You smack him again. He wraps his arms around you and you smile softly. You're in that daze, you feel like you're drifting.

Shielding you with his body, happily feeling like he's your protector, he waits for you to fall asleep first and then he lets himself fall asleep, too.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Ikemen Prince 4th Anniversary Eve

Gilbert & Azel: The Relationship Unbeknownst to Anyone

Somewhere on a certain day—

Gilbert: "---I've always wondered if the conqueror beast and the sacred beast were one in the same."

Gilbert: "Both being evils of the world that control people and manipulate them as they please."

Azel: "I agree with the evil part. You and I would be better off not existing."

Azel: "We are both nuisances to the world, after all."

Gilbert: "Should we die together then?"

Azel: "You mean kill each other."

Gilbert: "That’s right."

Azel: "Disgusting."

Gilbert: "Agreed."

Azel: "So?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, no need to rush. I've went through the trouble of preparing food and drinks, so why not enjoy it first?"

Azel: "I'm having alcohol, while you're having water?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so you noticed."

Azel: "I am a god, after all."

Gilbert: "More like a con-artist, right?"

Azel: "That's another way to put it."

Gilbert: "Haha, you're not denying it."

Azel: "The title isn't that important."

Gilbert: "Really? I thought you’d be particular about it."

Azel: "Not at all. At least with you, being god or con-artist doesn't matter."

Azel: "I'm just a 'nuisance’ in the end, aren't I?"

Gilbert: "So you realized that."

Azel: "Just how many times do you think I've confiscated the weapons you smuggled into my country?"

Azel: "Can't you stop that? It's increasing my overtime and it's annoying."

Gilbert: "It only takes time because you carefully disassemble the firearms and send them back each time."

Gilbert: "Is that your hobby or something?"

Azel: "Do you want to be called a carefree rich boy?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so it was actually a declaration of war."

Azel: "If you understand that much, then don't bother asking. Tanzanite is the land of the gods,”

Azel: "So you should’ve realized by now that your spies and schemes are powerless in my sacred domain."

Gilbert: "Hmm, that's troublesome."

Gilbert: "It seems I miscalculated how difficult 'cleaning up' Tanzanite would be."

Gilbert: "Or perhaps I should say I underestimated you."

Gilbert: "Tanzanite has the lowest return rate for spies among the major countries."

Gilbert: "Currently you’re the only one from your country that's noticed my plans—No, more like, you're the only one at all."

Gilbert: "I thought that I could gather some information from you by sharing a drink, but..."

Gilbert: "You're quite hard to read. Is this what a god is like?"

Azel: "Donations are always welcome."

Gilbert: "Unfortunately for you, I only believe in myself."

Azel: "I figured as much. Spending time on you could be considered a waste."

Azel: "...Though a free meal does have its value."

Gilbert: "Haha, if you get along with me, there might be even better things in store for you."

Azel: "Not happening."

Gilbert: "Oh, that was an immediate answer. Despite us being somewhat similar."

Azel: "That's just slander."

Azel: "I don't distrust human potential as much as you do."

Azel: "Humanity doesn't need gods or beasts."

Gilbert: "...Is that so?"

Azel: "Want to bet?"

Gilbert: "Sure, sounds interesting."

Gilbert: "Your schemes are like mirages, vague and hard to grasp, but..."

Gilbert: "I'll bet on the foolishness of humans."

Azel: "Then I'll bet the opposite."

Azel: "I'll bet on the potential of humans."

Azel: "They have the ability to cleanse themselves. They can recognize and atone for their mistakes."

Azel: "Make sure to prepare your money, Disaster boy."

Gilbert: "You too."

Some little notes I had:

*: There's a possibility of Azel being older than Gilbert, seeing as he would attach things like (ーくん)-kun or (ーちゃん)-chan to the nicknames he gave Gilbert…That or Azel's was just trying to antagonize him.

**: Alternative interpretation of the nickname carefree rich boy could be 'airheaded/thoughtless young master'

***: Alternative interpretation of the nickname (厄災くん or yakusai-kun)Disaster boy could be 'Mr. Calamity'

I wasn't sure which of these interpretations would fit Azel's dialogue more, so I wanted to leave these notes so that everyone can get a general sense of the word/nickname.

Master List

▼・ᴥ・▼

[scorpioriesling]

Dream Come True

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: light swearing

Summary: When Elain rejects the mating bond, the High Lord of Autumn spares no sympathy for his youngest son (well… you know. Anyways.) Hosting a ball with all the most eligible maidens in the court, you are of course eligible and happy to attend, wishing from afar for so many years — but, you decide to take a different approach to hopefully win his heart.

SR’s Note: *sigh* this is my current favorite art for my favorite fox boy… did I stare at it for way too long? Maybe. Anyways, here’s the fic. Enjoy! xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Honestly, you couldn't understand what the fuck was wrong with the Archeron girl.

First of all, she was blessed enough to look the way she did -- not that you wanted to look just like her, you would thank the Mother every day and night for blessing you with such lovely parents of your own who'd only pass on their best genes to you. But, she didn't have to try so damn hard to catch the eye of every male in Prythian, just with the swoosh of her skirt or the toss of her hair over her shoulder.

It sure caught the eye of the youngest Vanserra.

Her mate.

Don't even begin with her newfound Cauldron-blessed gift, either. It seemed like everywhere she went, all that was talked about was, "Ooh! Elain, the seer" or "have you been seeing anything new?" blah blah blah, I mean really -- how much longer will we hyperfixate on this? On her? Long gone was talk of her younger sister, the one who literally saved the land from Hybern's hand. You wondered if she ever grew as tired of her sister's attention as you did, not that you knew the Cursebreaker personally.

However, none of it mattered the 28th night of September. You'd been working that evening in the Autumn Palace, completing the tasks assigned as the Lady of Autumn's first assistant when you heard probably the best rumors to ever grace your ears. Beron had been passing you in the hall with his oldest son Eris, and you spared both of them a nod as they passed. Eris returned the small smile, having known you for years, but you didn't expect much from his father, knowing how cruel he was even with his own wife. You also didn't expect to hear the conversation they were having, but you slowed your pace as they continued in the opposite direction down the corridor from you.

"The girl said she wanted the bond broken," Beron muttered in a menacing tone. Eris sighed, and your breath hitched.

"What do you think Lucien-" Eris started.

"I'm not asking Lucien what he thinks. We won't deal with some ignorant wench who doesn't know what she wants. I'm not surprised she doesn't want to deal with him, but I won't deal with the scandal of him going unmated..." Beron's cruel tone fades as the pair rounds the corner of the corridor, and you brace yourself on one of the credenzas along the wall for a moment. Elain wants to break the bond? There's no way. You look up, eyes catching on your reflection in the dimly lit mirror hung on the wall. Was she really so unhappy that she would ask to break something so sacred, with someone as special as Lucien?

You took a steadying breath, forcing your feet to keep carrying you and your completed task sheet to the Lady of Autumn's office. You could barely focus; what was Lucien going to do? How was he feeling? You remembered all of the times you'd stolen glances at him, all the memories of hearing his warm but rare laugher through these very halls with his brothers over the years. He wasn't around as much anymore, but that didn't stop the desire that still warmed your heart at the thought of him.

"Thank you for your assistance, Y/N," the Lady of Autumn's voice was a warm caress as you laid down the task sheet upon her desk. "You're free to go for the evening."

With a nod you made for the door, but instead of heading for the front of the palace, you made way for the back stairwell, one that led to the private bedrooms. You knew your way around this place as you'd worked here for years, becoming rather close with the family and the boys that lived here. You counted the doors: one, two, three on the right side, and gave the third door a soft knock. Within moments, it was unlatched and a familiar pair of mahogany eyes met yours.

"Oh... hello, Y/N," Eris steps back, allowing you into his room before his father caught on somehow that you were still here. You silently slipped inside, as you'd done so many times before and taken a seat on the edge of his mattress. He perched near the top by his pillows, and offerred a quizzical look. "What brings you-"

"I need to know. I need to know about Lucien." You cut in. Eris' face immediately softened in realization. You'd been in this position many a time, coming to Eris with your concerns about his brother and him confiding his own feelings in you. This is what drew the two of you so close and provided a friendship so precious you knew you had to keep secret, as Beron was unpredictable and could use it as a weapon in a time of his own need.

"Elain... she asked Helion today to break their bond. He told my father right after she'd requested it." His hand found yours, and you loosed a breath. Your heart constricted, only imagining what Lucien must be going through right now.

"And... and Lucien? Was he-" Eris only shakes his head. Your sadness turns to anger, and you yank your hand back. You rise from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth in his room as traitorous thoughts cloud your mind.

"So, he wasn't even there? He doesn't even know?" You say, voice rising in octave. Eris leans forward, pressing a forefinger to his lips and shushing you.

"Shhhh, he likely knows by now," he says soothingly. But it doesn't matter. You feel as though your rage is bubbling over like the milky substance of the Caldron.

"Yeah. You're right, he probably knows -- I'm sure it probably hurts pretty fuckin' bad when a cord inside of you just... just..." You're throwing your hands in the air, fists clenched and shaking. "...breaks right in half out of nowhere-" Eris is instantly on his feet, taking both of your wrists in his, eyes searching yours in all seriousness.

"Y/N." He says solemnly. "You have to calm down. Someone is going to hear you, okay?" He says calmly. Your breath is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands still grip your wrists mid-air. He lets go, moving one hand to brush the stray hairs sticking to your face behind your ear, clinging to your forehead with the sweat you've worked up. "Just, take a deep breath, okay? I'm not too keen on it either, but this isn't my situation to have an opinion on, alright? We have to try and remember that."

You take his words into consideration, wiping your perspirating hands on your smock and breathing deeply. He takes a step back from you, allowing you your space and returning to sit on the bed. You follow, rubbing your hands over your face in defeat.

"My father doesn't want this to be a big thing," he continues, and you move your hands to look at him. He peers at the patch of bedsheets between the two of you, appearing to zone out as he continues. "He thinks if he finds someone else for Lucien quickly, the whole bond "thing" won't cause too much talk and Lu will be able to get over it faster or something." You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"That's the most rediculous thing I've ever heard." You say.

"I know." He replies. You shake your head, biting your bottom lip.

"What's he planning to do? Line someone up for Lucien to wed instead?" You ask. You really don't want to know the answer -- hearing he had a mate was already heart-wrenching enough, now hearing he would be betrothed to another would be even worse.

"He's planning to have a courting ceremony in two days, in the palace," he says. You perk up.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," he continues, eyes sliding to yours with a mischevious grin. "Now, don't get your hopes up, but he's only inviting the most eligible maidens and High Fae to attend, but anyone in attendance would technically have the right to Lucien's hand, if he accepts it. I've known a sly fox like you long enough that-"

"You know I'll find a way in." You finish. He chuckles.

"You also have to get him to say yes." You heart sinks a little. With Eris, its always been so easy -- the conversations, the getting along, the understanding. But, you started working here not too long before Lucien was on his way out the door. You could only pray you would be able to talk to him the same as his brother.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. I'm sure when Lu sees how charming you can be, he'd be stupid not to take your hand." Eris flashes an award-winning smile, and you can't help but feel hopeful by his tone.

You only hope you can pull this off without a hitch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

The deep violet dress you wore clung to every curve, the soft fabric scrunching in all the right places as it brushed the against your legs and drug along the leaf-littered ground behind you. You'd allowed your hair out of your usual braid for tonight, the long wavy tendrils sweeping down your exposed back, locks illuminated by the moonlight. You had to admit, you did appreciate the way you looked when you put in some effort -- you'd do it everyday, only for him.

"Y/N," Eris' soft whisper-shout echoes from the illuminated doorway as you round the corner of the palace, just where you'd arranged to meet. Turns out, sneaking into the ball was a lot easier than you'd thought; Beron was too busy in the throne room to pay any mind to where his oldest son was, which of course, was helping you enter through one of the unguarded back entrances.

"Wow," he breathes, pulling the heavy door closed and ushering you inside. "You're a vision." You blush, swatting his arm.

"Well, while I appreciate the compliment," you state. "Let's hope your brother reciprocates the sentiment."

Eris chuckles. "He would be a damned fool not to." You followed closely behind him as he led you down corridor after corridor, some unfamiliar at first as he peered around the corners before leading you down the halls. The sound of people talking rang out, and you heard the approaching throne room, recognising more of your surroundings. You placed a hand on Eris' arm, the fabric of his ornate jacket rough under your touch.

"You go in first," you say.

"Are you sure?" He asks, a tender look in your friend's eye.

You give him a knowing look. "Yes, your father would be suspicious if we walk in together." He nods, opening the doors a slit and slipping inside. You take a deep breath, wringing your hands and grounding yourself once more. You were finally going to have a chance, a chance to see him again tonight - and try your very best to not mess this all up.

Opening the door, you inch inside, hoping to not catch the eye of Beron or the Lady of Autumn -- youwere, after all, not "technically" invited to this thing after all. Luckily, you'd waited long enough that their attention had drifted back to the dancefloor and Eris had made it to their side by now, and only he was looking to you as you slid along the wall noiselessly blending in with the crowd.

Your gaze searched the scene, looking for a certain redhead. Of course, Eris stood out among the crowd of beautiful maidens, all adorning lovely full gowns and makeup much more extravagant than your own. Guess you didn't get the memo. Nonetheless, you see a few of Lucien's brothers making their rounds as well, girls shamelessly flirting with them too. However, the Vanserra you were seeking was nowhere to be found.

That is, until a few moments later when Beron rose and cleared his throat.

"Good evening to everyone," he began and the room quieted. You slunk deeper into the shadows, trying to remain hidden as he peered out into the crowd.

"Thank you all for attending this rather, special, evening," he chuckles. Eris rolls his eyes at his father's indecency. You can't help but do the same as a few girls near you giggle in excitement.

"I would like to present my son of the evening, the most eligible and willing bachelor, Lucien Vanserra," he says. Lucien stalks out from the entrance beyond the thrones, and many of the ladies in the room gasp and giggle. You can't help but widen your eyes at his presence. You had to admit, his beauty was incomparable.

"Allow the ball to commence!" Beron ends his stupid announcement with that, and Lucien's stoic expression has your gaze dropping, remembering how hard this must be from him. Women all around are fluttering about, some gossiping, some flanking his side immediately -- Gods, that must be so suffocating. Your gaze meets Eris', and he tosses you a wink, motioning with his hands in a way that indictates give him some time. You then watch him glance at the incessant ladies pouncing on Lucien, and see him grimace and shake his head. You giggle, and head for the table of treats along the wall. If you have to wait your time, that's fine -- you'd been playing the long game for this long anyways, what was a few more hours?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

Yes, you'd been crushing from afar for so long -- but now that you shared air, it was a lot harder to stay on a long leash.

Watching him share dance after dance with beautiful fae after beautiful fae was... well, hurtful. You knew what you wanted, well... what you damn near needed, but you also knew that you needed to wait for the right moment.

What did you have that these ladies didn't?

All night, you looked around, comparing -- they were gorgeous, all High Fae, all much more glamorous than you. But, did they know him? No. Did they have much of a personality, or were they just here in hopes of being married off to the High Lord's newly-available son?

You needed to take the different approach.

And, hiding out by the food tables would not get you noticed.

You knew by the look on Lucien's face that he was getting tired of dancing the same dance, over and over and over. Having the same conversations, over. And over. And over. Sooner or later, he'd need an escape, and you knew this place like the back of your hand.

So where would he go?

You slipped outside, to the vast expanse of the private balcony off the throne room and rested your arms on the marble railing. Eris didn't miss your exit, suggesting to his brother a breath of fresh air, which he was happy to oblige in. You would have to remember to thank him later.

"Uhh, miss? This is a private balcony-"

You turn, hair brushing over your shoulder with the movement. Your eyes meet his, and heat floods your cheeks at the realization that the moment has finally come. The moonlight illuminates every russet freckle on his skin, the color matching his iris as his eyes widen in his own realization.

"Y/N?" He whispers, taking a tentative step toward you. You crack a half smile. You shrug your shoulders.

"In the flesh."

He walks quickly over to you, gasping and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in so tight, and your arms wrap around his neck. He laughs against your neck, the sound as light and magnificent as the stars above. You inhale deep, his scent of amber and sunshine warming you to the core.

"I can't believe this, I... I haven't seen you in forever, I mean... how... wait, how are you here?" He chuckles again, releasing you. You wish he would hold you forever, but you pull back to look at him. He's still smiling down at you, a mere foot from you now, his hands still resting on the small of your waist.

"Well... you know I would never be invited to this sort of thing but... I've never exactly played by the rules." You wink at him, and he rolls his eyes, laughing heartly once more. He inhales fully and lets it go, gazing once more at you.

"Ohhhh, Y/N, it sure is good to see you again. And no, you never have played by any kind of rules," he shakes his head, and you register your hands still softly bracing his biceps. You grin up at him, and he seems to realize the intimacy at the same time you do. He releases you in that moment, moving to the balcony and loosing a breath, looking out at the Autumn Court beyond. You move to stand next to him, feeling his body heat even from a few feet away.

"Can you believe my dad would do such a rediculous thing like this?" He asks after a few beats of silence. You chew your lip, sneaking a glance at him. His jaw is tight as he continues to look straight ahead.

"Honestly... yeah. He is... he is somethin'." You say. Lucien turns, facing you once more.

"Has he gotten worse since I left?" He asks. You think for a moment, and his eyes search yours.

"I mean... I don't know. I talk more with your mom. He's still, well, cruel, not with me in particular, but with just everyone, I guess." He swears under his breath.

"I should have never left." He says. You place a hand over his and he glances down at it, then back out at the court, swallowing thickly. "None of this would have ever happened. I would have never met Elain. It never would have gotten worse here. I would have never-"

"Hey hey hey, don't say that," you say. He gazes at you again. You smile kindly at him. "We're all okay here -- the only thing that got worse was how much we all missed you." You trace a vein atop his hand and he breathes in deep, eyes fluttering down, then back up to yours, growing darker. "Well... how much I missed you, anyways."

He smiles softly. "Is that so?" He says quietly, and you nod.

"And... Elain is... so... so blind for not seeing the amazing man she's missing out on..." you lift your gaze to meet his eyes, and he slides his empty hand to your hip, pulling you close. He pulls you so close that you're sharing a breath as he practically whispers the next words into your mouth.

"Honestly... I might be glad she broke the bond. She is nothing compared to what I've been missing out on."

His lips press to yours, and you can only feel a rush of golden fireworks inside as his fingers brush through your hair, moving to cup your jaw and stroke your cheek. His lips move, kissing you sesually as your hands hold onto his shoulders, finally reveling in the moment you'd only dreamed would come true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

[majorproblems77]

Sacred realm update! so I'm back!

Hi all!

Hope your doing well! :D

Only a few days late, Exam season man, what can you do?

This update shows link and Time Escaping. And time having... a Time....

Alright, now for the important stuff! Sacred realm belongs to @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. I've got their permission to do these! I love the comic so much its so good and so well done!

The link to the update can be found here! You should go reblog it, it's great, give it some love, please? :D

Let's do this, grab your popcorn and your water. Let's go! :D

Cinnamon roll Link strikes again, Clearly, the big purple guy just wants a hug!

oh no...

Panic!

Time's little superhero slide here.

Also, it must be said he's doing all this while carrying an adult. (Or close enough.) I know he's a spirit and all but that's VERY impressive!

You know when you're reading and you can hear the atmosphere, you can hear the moment that a breath is held. And time stands still.

This. The moment in a movie when everything stops before the action picks up in another way.

The talent it takes to get it from still images. I just am in awe.

Pure fear from Link.

Props to Time here for remaining calm while he's got the cinnamon roll here just scared out of his mind.

Time... Being reassuring?

Wow.

This is important I think for these two's relationship. The need to protect someone only comes to people who dont really hate someone. Before this, I'm pretty sure Link doesn't think Time cares too much about him.

Why would he right? Time's been nothing but cold to him.

(More on this later)

Link getting cocooned in Time's cloak is just, everything to me. It's such a caring more from him. (Even if it is a you can't die thing)

Ouch, that's gotta hurt

Oh man, this man is like... low-key gripping onto him.

Excuse me while I cry a little?

Twilightttttt ;-;

DIRECT FAMILY CONNECTION

EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRY MORE? ;-;-;-;

TIME? OH YOU POOR MAN

This reaction gives me father-son vibes but with time and Link, it's giving me life because oh my god these two.

Link is a cinnamon roll and must be protected.

PFFFFFFTTTT

Rip

This made me laugh I won't lie. Damit Time I was rooting for some Dad Time in this world.

Says the 'Small cinnamon roll with scared of everything issues.'

I love him but ohhhh man Time is gonna kill you

SEE

RUN LINK

RUN

Link, poor guy. Man needs help okay.

This map is interesting, I reckon is a list of the first three heroes we meet.

That top one is Skyloft. With Hylia and the floating island. - For Sky. who we met first.

The middle one has someone holding The double helix sword... That's the fierce deity on the middle level. We know Time has a connection to the Fierce deity mask. And in turn the deity himself. So this middle level is Time.

And that lower one.

If im right, This is the Twilight realm, and we will find ourselves there soon. The people look similar to the 'Link' we see on the land level to an extent while still holding a semblance of individuality.

Its almost, inverted? Like the twilight people were. Rather than looking different different.

I'm excited to see where this goes.

Also

Hi it's later

So I'm a sucker for visual storytelling in backgrounds and I think this might be more than an exploration into the depths beneath the ice.

Starting with this.

I think this, is Time being vulnerable.

The break from a cold icy exterior to something a little more personal.

Funny how when Time begins to see more personal stuff, he has more visions of the past.

The trigger has him almost scared, just look at him.

Why would Time be scared, if he didn't care?

Time appears to carry a lot of guilt around Twilight.

And when Link calls him out on it, he returns to that icy exterior, not allowing himself the opportunity to be vulnerable again.

And I wonder if that has to be explored before he can take his place within the medallion. Trials by fire, as they are so suitably called, can be for the spirits as much as Link.

Just a thought tho.

That's all from me! Hope you have a great day! :D

[queen-dahlia]

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

Gilbert von Obsidian

I was so restless since they drop the event, and it's been a while since I got his bonus story. Our villain finally made a move on his Belle 🖤🖤🖤

Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect some grammatical errors as well.

I tried to do a summary but meh... I translate every line of the story instead.

It's not an exaggeration to say that Halloween is a celebration of sweets and mischief in the Land of Roses.

It's a coveted event for gluttons and scoundrels, and this year's first thing comes to mind.

(And yet...)

(... Strange.)

Today, when the court is busy with Halloween festivities, Gilbert-sama is nowhere to be found.

Despite the fact that the woven basket I was carrying was packed with a large amount of sweets.

(Even though I made five times as many sweets as usual for Gilbert-sama, who is a big eater.)

If you meet him, you will definitely be forced to choose between sweets and play tricks.

I didn't think the mischief caused by the 'World's Disaster' was a joke, so I took all possible measures.

(I'm sure Gilbert-sama likes Halloween.)

(… It's a waste to have leftover sweets, so I'll find him at all costs.)

══════════════════

My footsteps make a thumping noise that disturbs the silent room.

Stepping inside the courtroom, into the chapel that no one usually visits unless there is a special event,

I found a black figure in front of the sacred altar.

Emma: "So you were here."

(I've seen Gilbert-sama several times in the chapel, so maybe...)

Gilbert: "Fufu, you're an idiot, Bunny-san."

(I wonder what.)

There is no sign of anyone other than Gilbert-sama in the chapel.

When I approached him with some sense of caution, I was greeted with a refreshing smile as usual.

Gilbert: "You knew that if you came to a place like this, you'd be alone with me, right?"

Emma: "Are you planning something bad?"

Gilbert: "What do you think? It's up to Bunny-san."

Gilbert: "More importantly, thank you."

Emma: "Huh..."

Gilbert-sama made a troubled expression as he glanced at the sweets I was holding.

Gilbert: "But I'm sorry. I'm not in the mood today." *

Emma: "Eh…"

Gilbert: "I wonder how long the sweets will last."

(...That Gilbert-sama... Gilbert-sama who continues to stuff his cheeks endlessly with sweets when he starts eating...)

(He refused the sweets!?)

Emma: "Is there something wrong?"

Gilbert: ". . . . ."

Gilbert-sama just smiled at the moonlight and said nothing.

(He doesn't like lying, so no way...)

Emma: "I'm very sorry… Excuse me."

I timidly reached out my hand and lightly touched Gilbert-sama's forehead, *

His skin, which should be cold, felt slightly warm.

(It's not really hot. But Gilbert-sama's body temperature is originally low...)

Emma: "You should see a doctor right now."

Gilbert: "... Baby Rabbit."

(. . . . .)

The air around Gilbert-sama becomes sharp, like icicles formed in the terribly cold country.

Breathing became shallow due to the oppressive air that seemed to be pouring black evil into a sacred place.

(Suddenly, the atmosphere changed.)

Gilbert: "Hey, it's Halloween today."

Gilbert-sama shortened the distance with me while maintaining his smile.

The handle of his cane caught my chin, and I found myself unable to move as though my body had frozen.

Gilbert: "Sweet pranks or cruel pranks... Which do you prefer?"

Emma: "Why... I gave you sweets, didn't I?"

Gilbert: "Trick or treat, if you don't eat sweets*, you have no choice but to play tricks, right?"

Emma: "It's Gilbert-sama's will that I won't eat..."

Gilbert: "Yes, even if you go against my will?" *

(I never thought it would be so unreasonable!)

Even now, I regret having searched for Gilbert-sama.

But now that it happened, there's nothing I can do about it.

(Are you trying to cover up that you're not feeling well?)

Thinking that it might be a topic that shouldn't be discussed, I put my worries away for now.

(I don't think Gilbert-sama's "terrible" is a joke, so at least...)

Emma: "... Please play a sweet prank."

I muttered like I was praying, and Gilbert-sama smiled kindly and circled behind me.

I was embraced from behind like a lover, and my body tensed.

Gilbert: "Then, I'll be as kind as possible."

(I don't know why... I have a really bad feeling...)

Gilbert-sama gently parted the hair that was covering my neck.

The moment the night air touched my bare skin and I caught my breath, I was bitten into my exposed neck.

Emma: "Ah... Gilbert-sama!?"

Although there is no pain, as the phrase "gentle prank" implies, the skin starts to tingle.

The bite on my neck, which is specifically linked to my life, caused my heart to beat so fast that it hurts.

Emma: "Stop it!"

Gilbert: "Haha. Bunny-san, did you know my secret?"

Emma: "Secret?"

Gilbert: "Yes. Actually..."

Gilbert: "I was a vampire."

<Gil... I wanna know what type of crack you are smoking...>

Emma: ". . . . ."

(... Huh, you're kidding, aren't you?)

I get bitten on the neck again.

The sensation of sucking on my skin… I was told that drinking blood feels like being intoxicated, and I certainly felt that way.

(No way… But…)

The sound vampire seemed strangely convincing in the chapel sanctuary.

(Gilbert-sama... Doesn't lie.)

I have a feeling that blood is about to drip, so I drop the basket I was holding.

Gilbert finally took the basket and bent down to put it back in my hands.

Gilbert: "... Haha."

(Oh, you're laughing so hard.)

(Could it be… I was deceived!?)

Gilbert: "Really, you're an idiot. Rather than being honest, you don't know how to doubt people..."

Emma: "It's the result of Gilbert-sama's acting ability! I don't believe it either!?"

Emma: "Basically, Gilbert-sama hates lies…"

Gilbert: "Just now, it's not a lie, it's a joke."

Gilbert: "I was going to play a prank on you, but I can't stop laughing…"

(I understand well that Gilbert-sama is unexpectedly laughing!)

I keep my distance, but the heat of embarrassment doesn't seem to go away.

(I know it's Gilbert-sama, but it's really frustrating.)

I clench my fist at Gilbert-sama, whose body trembles with laughter.

Emma: "Gilbert-sama... Trick or treat."

Gilbert: "Hmm, are you going to play a trick on me too? I'm looking forward to it."

(He doesn't seem to want to give me sweets from the beginning.)

(If that's the case, so am I…)

Emma: "I'll borrow this for a minute."

I took the cane from Gilbert-sama's hand, and pointed it at him. *

Emma: "I've never told anyone before…"

Emma: "Actually, I'm a witch."

Gilbert: "Eh? So, what kind of magic can you use?"

Emma: "... Don't be surprised, okay?"

(I'll definitely you believe.)

With a cane that is heavier than I thought, I draw a circle as if I'm casting a spell—

Emma: "I hope Gilbert-sama gets well soon."

Gilbert: ". . . . ."

Emma: "I've cast a spell on you, Gilbert-sama, so tomorrow you'll be back to the original gluttonous person."

The lively laughter disappeared, and the silence of the chapel weighed on my body.

(. . . . .)

(I wish I didn't do things I'm not used to.)

Gilbert-sama, who looked stunned,

His body shook once again when came to his senses, and my face fell.

Gilbert: "Ahaha... Hahaha... Bunny-san, are you going to kill me with laughter?

Emma: "I didn't mean to, and you're laughing too much!"

(I'm getting embarrassed.)

Emma: "The sweets will last until tomorrow, so please eat them if you don't mind!"

When I put his cane and basket on a nearby bench and tried to leave, Gilbert-sama grabbed my hand and stopped me.

Gilbert: "Wait."

Emma: "What 一"

Before I could finish my words, his lips brushed against my cheek.

I blinked. For a moment I don't know what happened after that surprise kiss.

Emma: "一now..."

Gilbert: "Thank you."

Emma: "You're welcome..."

(I wonder if it's just a sweet prank…)

(After all, Gilbert-sama's mischief was outrageous.)

My heart began to race in a different way than previously, and I left the place to run away.

══════════════════

Gilbert, who was left alone, sat down beside the bench as if he had lost all his strength.

However, as though something came to his mind, he reached out for the sweets,

A pleasant chewing sound echoed through the chapel.

Gilbert: "Hmm... Delicious."

Gilbert: "Magic really exists."

[the-breadwizard]

Hungarian village in Slovakia gothic

You know who most of the people are. They know who you are. Everyone is a stranger. Except the grandparents.

You see more and more strangers nowadays. You instinctually hate them. You don't know what they are doing in Your home and it bothers you. (it's your home, not theirs, even though you only spend your weekends there, now).

You know two languages by the time you're fourteen - you were taught to despise one and all those who speak it, that on some level they are your enemy, and anyways, they hate you so it's only fair (it wasn't by your teachers but everyone around you), and to love the other, that it is sacred and it is an unreplaceable part of your identity and that They will try to take it away from you. It is unclear who They are.

You grew up knowing that even though this is your home, it was-somehow-taken from you. It was over a hundred years ago. You have to mourn it. You have to. Even your grandparents weren't alive when it happened, but it has to hurt you the same way it hurt everyone then. Otherwise-do you really belong to us?

Behind the community centre are injection needles thrown everywhere. When you were eight, you saw someone sitting there, holding their arm. You didn't quite understand what was happening, but it scared you.

A few years later you can name those from your school who you know deal drugs. You know where they live. You pity them, but don't care much anymore.

Your classmates didn't like you much-but you didn't like them much either, so it was alright. You find out some time later that at least half of them are related to you.

There are statues of saints all over the village. You know what they stand for even though you were never taught about them. There is a Virgin Mary on a road in the middle of the fields. There's also one not far from your house. You hope they will protect you.

The language you speak has words in it that people from two villages over don't understand.

Your grandparents use words you don't understand.

There is a bog in your backyard. Well, more like a lake, but the reeds get closer every year.

The house is decorated with stuffed animal carcasses and deer skulls. Hunting is the only thing you've ever seen your grandfather really care about. You wonder if it has to do something with his military enlistment.

The only thing you ever wanted was to leave here - and it's like the Fields around the village can feel that. Every time you go there, you find something watching you. A hawk, a hare, deers, pheasants. They look directly at you. And don't move.

The Fields - long, empty pieces of land. You know the next village is only five kilometers away. You can't see it. In the summer, when the corn grows tall, it becomes like a wall all around. The canola flowers flood them twice a year - after you pass them, you can't really get the smell out of your nose. For a long while.

You're not fazed by the noise of shotguns - it is hunting season after all. It is always. Be careful when you go into the forest.

Your dad taught you how to shoot with an airgun at ten, for seemingly no reason. You have never been hunting. It's good to know how.

Someone is living in the forest. You've never seen them. Still, be careful. You can never be too careful.

Everyone calls it a forest, but really, it's just a couple of trees most likely planted less than fifty years ago to catch the wind. You can't exactly get lost in them, i mean, most of them are in orderly lines, grown to be cut down later. It's smaller every year.

You were raised to be cruel right from the start. You were praised for killing slugs and frogs and the animals that were unwanted.

You come home from school one day. There is a half-skinned rabbit hanging next to where you always put your bicycle. It will be finished later.

There are always new bones for the dog to chew on. Bigger. More bloody. It still kills the moles that are too slow.

You know the smell of raw meat. It is everywhere in the cellar. You also know how it smells when it's rotting.

There aren't many things to do, anywhere, without going to a city. Most people don't do that. After all, you can drink at home too. Or behind the community house. Or in the forest.

There was a murder a few years ago. You know the house where it happened, you passed it hundreds of times. When you go out with your friends, your mother tells you to be careful. Always more careful.

And don't you smile. You do not get to smile. You should always look at least emotionless. You should be miserable and bitter and pointless like the rest of us decent people

you do not get to remind us of everything we could have been, you have to rot away right here where you were born, you do not get to get out

..................

Come, have a beer. And a pálinka. And another. And another. Another

@mist-the-wannabe-linguist @alexandrintea @thuja-the-gay-monster-lover you get a tag too mert átérzed

[nerdyrevelries]

A Little Princess (1995): A Tale of Orientalism

Hey friend, sit down, I want to talk to you for a moment. Remember beloved children's film A Little Princess 1995? How well do you remember it? Is it a film you watch regularly or is it just something that you have vague good feelings in connection to?

The reason I ask is that there's something you might not remember about this film. Something that you might not have realized when you watched it as a wee child. What's that, you ask? This movie is perhaps the most Orientalist piece of filmmaking I have ever seen, and the perhaps is only because I can't decide whether or not Memoirs of a Geisha gets the honor instead.

Let's take a look, shall we?

I want to start you out by showing you the opening of the film, since it may have been a while since you've seen it.

Okay, you finished? Let's analyze this clip. First of all, we've got some mysterious tinkling and stereotypical sounds of India. Text starts to scroll across the screen in a curvy font that speaks of the Orient and far off lands. Hang on, did she just say, "The mystical land of India" like she's talking about Oz or Narnia?

It really only gets worse from there. A little girl starts to tell us a small part of the story of Ramayana, an epic that is part of the Hindu faith. The images we are given make India look like a technicolor fantasy realm. And who do we have playing Sati and Rama? A white woman with a bindi and a white man who has been painted blue.

The actor who plays Rama also plays Sara's father, so I think the implication is that Sara is imagining these two as her parents (I question how many young children are even going to pick up on this detail to make its inclusion worthwhile; I certainly didn't), but the whole thing still seems racially insensitive (especially since her father is literally a colonialist. That's why he's in India.) Not only that, but they have chosen a story that is part of a religion that is still actively practiced for Sara to be telling, not a simple piece of folklore.

To add the final icing on the cake, when the story reaches an exciting part, we pull away to show the little white girl who is telling this story in 1914 India. She is telling this story not to someone else who is white but to an Indian child of her own age, who seems to be very interested in it. What's the implication here, that Sara knows this own kid's culture better than he does?

The story of Ramayana is continued throughout the film in this same dreamlike style, interspersed with the story of Sara Crewe, a little American (British in the original) girl who comes to a boarding school in her father's home country, where her fortunes change drastically when she gets news of her father's death.

Let's unpack this more. What's the purpose of having these scenes in this movie? Well, the answer to that seems to be that they want to provide the film with a feel of magic and wonder. In other words, Orientalism.

Okay, now that you're caught up, let me address a few things. Some of you might be thinking that the movie is like this because it's adapted from a novel that was published in 1905. But this simply isn't the case. Yes, Sara is from India in the book and her father is still a colonialist. He dies of "jungle fever" and Sara is later saved from poverty by Mr. Carrisford, her father's equally colonialist business partner in a diamond mine that turns out not to have gone bust, and he has an Indian servant with a monkey and is frequently referred to as "the Indian gentleman" (making the Indian gentleman actually Indian instead of a white colonialist is one of the two changes that the movie makes that I actually like.)

But you know what the book doesn't have? Ramayana. Sara's stories have nothing to do with India, sacred or not. She generally tells stories that she has made up about mermaids and things. So why does the movie have her telling a sacred Hindu story instead? I can't think of an explanation that isn't Orientalist. (And did I mention that all of the writers are this film are white?)

Your second thought might be that perhaps this is just some 90s filmmaking that aged badly! Perhaps they were trying to have more racial and cultural diversity. There are two cases where I think this is the case in the film, one of which is the Indian gentleman, and one of which I will talk about later (because I think it also needs to be discussed), but I don't think that's the case here.

As proof of my point, I'd like to show you the opening to another beloved children's classic, The Secret Garden 1993. This is also based on a book by Frances Hodgson Burnett and has a heroine who was born in India and comes to live in her parents' home country (in this case, the movie keeps the English setting.) I would also argue that the language around India and particularly the people who live there that is used in the original book is worse than the language used in A Little Princess.

So, you have two Frances Hodgson Burnett adaptations made and released in the 90s that both open with scenes of India. But the scenes feel incredibly different.

In the Secret Garden 1993, India is firmly placed in the real world. The scene also gives us important narrative information. It tells us that our heroine, Mary, is both spoiled and neglected. She doesn't do anything for herself. She doesn't even put her own stockings on. She's always angry and has frequent fits of temper, and her parents are also selfish people who have never had time for her. Finally we learn of Mary's parents' deaths and how she survives, giving us everything that we as watchers need to know before we ship her off (literally) to Misselthwaith Manor for a transformative adventure.

In comparison, A Little Princess 1995's opening treats India like it's a fantasy land, and its opening does nothing to introduce us to our main character or tell us anything about the story that we're all actually here for. The opening is just supposed to give the viewer a mythical, magical feeling of exoticism and wonder.

Before I go further, there's one more thing the movie does that I want to address. This is the change that I mentioned that I think was supposed to be good, but I think it's extremely misguided. They make Becky, originally a white scullery maid, black.

Now, I am fine with changing a character's race from what it was in the book for the sake of more diversity (it was the only thing I liked about Persuasion 2022), but I don't think Becky is the character to do it with. This is because Becky is a servant who is treated as little better than a slave. She's starved, she's illiterate, she's poorly treated, and she lives in a freezing little attic room where she is ignored by all the students of the school below.

In my opinion, the point of making a character that was originally white into a person of color—especially in a children's film—is so that people of color can see someone that looks like them represented on screen. But Becky is the only black character in the entire film. Is it really better for a little black girl to see the only girl who looks like her be the one who is treated as if she were a slave in an American setting that is supposed to be 50 years past slavery? I wouldn't want that for my child, if I was a black parent.

It didn't have to be that way, either. There was integrated education in America as early as 1831 in the north and the west, and there were rich African Americans who would have been able to afford to send their children to a fancy boarding school. They could have made some of the students of the school black. But they didn't. They just made Becky black. (The one thing I will give them credit for is that at least Becky becomes Sara's adopted sister in this version instead of her personal servant like she does in the book.)

So, what do we do with this information? Do you have to stop liking the film? Absolutely not! I may not like for reasons in addition to those listed above (I think the 90s rooftop chase scene climax is very silly), but I don't want to tell you to stop loving something that means something to you.

But I think it's important to talk about this, and it's something I have literally never heard anyone else discussing, unless I brought it up. We can like media with problematic elements (I think it could be safely said that there's no media that's entirely without them), but I think we need to acknowledge those problematic elements. It's only by confronting and not excusing the things that are wrong in the things we love that we can get better.

[snakegorl212006]

Chapter 7 pt 1

I wake up ready for today. Lloyd already left to do what he needed to do. I've decided to slither around until we were all called on to the bridge. I head there myself being the last one to arrive "Angela! Hows your arm" Lloyd asked "it's better just can't use it often" i replied then i looked up at the screen to see a map. "Umm. Excuse me. Can i be of assist" i asked nya "umm sure" she replied a bit confused "the last tombs are here and here" i said as i put some darts on the map "how do you know this" the white ninja asked "I memorized the map Lloyd found so he didn't need it most of the time when we were opening the tombs for I was too blind and naive to realize the dangers. I guess this can be a form of a apologize from me" i replied looking down slightly "it's ok were all cool beside it saved us some time" the red ninja replied "hey you're part Serpentine right. Do you know anything about their powers" the black one asked. This made me think "well,To point out the obvious Hypnobri has the power of hypnosis which is effective even against itself. Fangpyre is more transformation. If you plan on heading to the toxic bogs where the Venomari is you have to stay out of range for there venom can make you have hallucinations and Constrictai can you know squeezing you really really hard" i explained "well that's helpful" the blue ninja replied. After wu assigned them into separate tombs, I decided to slither around once more. Then i saw nya in this samurai gear. When she saw me she hold her finger up to her lips, signalling me to be quiet about it so i did and mind my own business. I did a mini tour of the monastery before I reached the deck where I was hit with the wind blowing at my face. "Angela there you are" i heard Lloyd called as i coil myself a seat." I was walking around stretching my tail. This place isn't so bad " I replied "ya. It's pretty cool out here. I can even imagine being captain of this ship" Lloyd said as he stands up looking all high and mighty "you dream big Lloyd I'd admire that" i replied he blushed slightly "if you were the son of Garmadon you have to dream pretty big " he replied "well you mean if you're Lloyd garmadon you have to dream pretty big" i replied "ya that too" he said. Wu called us for dinner. It was kinda hard sitting in one of the seats due to my size but I made it work. "Then this big mechanical warrior " Jay started but Zane interrupted "samurai. It was samurai ". "A sama what" Lloyd asked "samurai. Highest level of warrior class. They would protect nobility and serve with honor on the battlefield" wu explained "he was a hundred feet high, with weapons coming out every part of him. Look at sensei's beard. It's moving like snakes" kai said which made me chuckle "when is this venomari spit supposed to wear off?it's starting to get annoying" nya asked as kai slaps a piece if food on his cheek. "Okay, don't let this mysterious Samurai cloud what's really important: All the Serpentine are out and if pythor can unite them , the legend states some Great Devourer is gonna consume the land and-" Cole said. I zoned out and remember the nightmare I had. 'Was it a prophecy' I wondered Lloyd groans, snapping me out of my trance. "it's all my fault. If i hadn't opened the first hatch. None of this would've happened" Lloyd said i gave him a pat on the back for reassurance "we cannot change the past but we can affect the future" wu replied having his hopes up for a sacred flute but it was stolen then the alarm went off. I covered my ears due to how loud it was so I didn't hear anything. I just followed them to the bridge where we discovered that there's a meeting underground of ninjago city.

[hurricane105]

King Rhoam's journal

The Writings of Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule

First entry: Today, as the sun rose and a new day was born, my daughter, too, joined this sweet world. In keeping with the traditions of the royal family, I have decided to name her...Zelda. I am not a man accustomed to frivolous musings, but now seems as good a time as any to begin my royal memorandum. [calling a journal for self reflection 'frivolous?' not a good move rhoam]

Second entry: Reports keep arriving regarding the excavation of relics. The fortune teller's predictions seem to be coming true. Calamity Ganon was not a figure of fable, or even of legend. He actually existed in our great land of Hyrule. We must investigate all the relics, learn as much as we can. But understanding the Divine Beasts alone will take time... Zelda's eyes lit up like a wildfire when I told her about the relics... I must admit, she has a knack for research. [she's 6 yo or younger - what a bookish kid. How early did she learn to read?]

Third entry: My queen has left this world. Her death was so sudden and unexpected, I awaken most nights unsure if she is really gone. Zelda never cried, never faltered. Not even during the royal funeral or later when she and I were alone with our grief. I must assume her strength is a result of us repeatedly informing her of her duty to be a valiant and steady princess. For a child of merely six years of age, her conduct was truly that of a born leader. Her strength gives me hope. From now on, I must raise her all alone... Now, only I remain to prepare her for her difficult future as princess of Hyrule. [option 1: Zelda doesn't feel safe enough to show her emotions around her father. option 2: she hasn't really realized that her mother is dead. Also rhoam, strength does not equal not showing emotion. that's a demerit on the parent sheet. Also also, you're raising her 'alone' in a castle full of servants? hmmmmmm]

Fourth entry: Zelda finally reported back after her visit to the fountain. It seems her sacred sealing power has still yet to awaken. It has been a year and three months since her mother passed. Perhaps she is held back by heartache too deep to heal. If the Ganon prophecy wasn't looming over our heads, I would tell her to take her time... To wait until she is ready. But our situation is dire and leaves no room for weakness - even on behalf of my beloved daughter. My heart breaks for Zelda, but I must act as a king, not a father. I must order her to train relentlessly at the fountain. [ok i have seen so many posts about 'rhoam talked about caring for Zelda, he must have loved her! folks, he knew he was SUPPOSED to care for her, and because [in his own mind] he's not a bad person, whatever he does is caring for his daughter]

Fifth entry: I was told Zelda went off to research ancient technology so I had no choice but to confront her about it. [no choice? Really rhoam? You always have a choice in how to act. Way to not take responsibility for your actions] She claims she was simply using her day off from training to indulge in a bit of research, but still I scolded her. She won't get it through her head... Forcing me to tell her the same thing I have been repeating ad nauseam. The reason her sacred powers still won't awaken is because she's spending all her efforts playing at being a scholar! [ah yes. 'have a day off!' oh but you can't spend it doing fun stuff, it's back to the temple for you!]

Sixth entry: In truth, I understand Zelda's feelings. Painfully so. She lost her mother, her teacher, before she could learn from her. Ten pointless years of self-training, without so much as a book or note to help her find her way... Those in the castle talk behind her back. And I, her only family, scold her for her shortcomings. No wonder she wishes to hide away in her beloved relic research. I'd love nothing more than to console her... But I must stay strong. She MUST fulfill her duty, just as we all must. Even if she comes to despise me. [a tiny bit of self awareness, immediately trampled by self righteous 'but i've got to treat her like trash!']

Seventh entry: I have been told my Zelda went to the Spring of Wisdom... [you didn't even see her in person? coward. she won't even share her travel plans with you now] This will likely be her last chance. If she is unable to awaken her power at Lanayru, all hope is truly lost. [contrast this with Urbosa's saying 'it's not like your last chance was up there on the mountain, we'll figure something out'] If she comes back without success, then I shall speak kindly with her. Scolding is pointless now. I forced 10 years of training on her... and after all that, it seems her power will stubbornly awaken some other way. Perhaps I should encourage her to keep researching her beloved relics. They may just lead her to answers I can't provide. For now, I sit anxiously, more a father than a king in this moment. I sit and await my daughter's return. [it's about time you decided to be an actual father]

[fireroastedferocious]

I scheduled the appointment for my IUD right after the election. I never wanted kids and neither does my husband so it just makes sense.

I'm telling you this over drinks in a swanky downtown bar. I already forgot the name of the amber liquid you ordered for me but it tasted sweet and made my mouth numb.

Something about the twinkle lights wrapped around rafters makes your eyes sparkle. The dark of your hair and eyes contrasts beautifully with your skin tone and I feel my heart squeeze and melt in my chest. You're hanging on my every word, not really caring what I talk about, I can feel how much you want me from the other side of the table. Our feet touching underneath makes the distance feel even closer.

Thanks for paying, I say as we walk out, I want to tell you I'm not broke and can take care of myself but instead, you wrap your arm around me and pull me in so close I can feel your breath warm between us, "My pleasure" you say simply. A smile sparks on your face and the wind leaves my chest in a gasp. A knowing, teasing smile, letting me know that's not going to be your only pleasure tonight.

Back at your place, we smoke on the couch and take turns with the playlist. I want to hear songs that speak to the craving desire I feel and you're showing off your knowledge of international pop music.

I feel free in my body, unmasked movements, speaking my mind freely. I'm surprised you're keeping up with me, a response for everything I say. Not always trying to be clever either. Sometimes you're witty but occasionally you hit me with something terribly sentimental. I know what falling in love feels like. I did it with my husband. Those tender, sacred parts of me where my husband's essence stays with me, begin to open. And here you are. Unbelievably attractive and apparently smitten with me. The real me.

The movements of the music combined with the alcohol and THC all combine in my body; a resonance that quiets my mind, opens my heart, releases butterflies from my tummy, and absolutely soaks my panties. I land on you face first and you drink of me deeply.

Our bodies pressed together in passionate fury. Removing our own clothing, every motion an expression of consent and desire. I need you to show me what you mean when you look at me like that. I need to know what your crooked grin is implying. Please, please tell me what you're laughing about.

You press into me, my lips wet with anticipation. You slide in so deep the first time I cry out. Ignoring my cry, you begin telling my cervix a story. I thought it was going to hurt but you seem to feel how tender that spot is for me. You need to be that deep but you're so gentle, my body relaxes around you. Your pace quickens and I'm lost in my body, awash in pleasure. I feel it everywhere, I have no idea what you're doing to me but it makes my feet tingle and glittery stars shoot out of my toes. Waves of warm honeyed pleasure roll up and down my body. You rut into me, having your way with me, pounding deep inside me. I have never felt this kind of ecstasy before.

You insist on fucking me through my orgasms, giving me no time to recover between them. I can feel my pussy throbbing, clenching around you, doing that thing that my husband married me for - he says it feels like my pussy is sucking the cum from his balls. He always busts at this point but you are not slowing down.

Well. You do slow down but it is agonizing. I look in your eyes, suddenly terrified you're going to stop. There's a deep ache, almost burning. Like when I'm edging myself but you're inside me. A craving need, but confused, I already came harder than I have in months, and you're still going.

A deep breath comes and goes in shudders. You look down at me like you're watching a bug on a leaf, wondering what I'm gonna do, how I'll respond. Your interest, the genuine curiosity in your face, hits my soul the same instant the tip of you hits the right spot. My body begins shaking uncontrollably and I squirt cum all over you. It splashes up between us, down your shaft, making a mess on the bed.

Oh this is the finale, I think to myself, feeling the brink of the orgasm wash over me and settle in my bones. But the pace continues and so does the gushing. Eight, nine, ten, I can't keep counting how many squirting convulsing orgasms fell through me. Tears started streaming down my face as I struggle to ride every wave of pleasure.

You ease up on me. You don't stop with the thrusting, just slow way down. You shift positions slightly to lean closer to me. Our noses touching lightly, you kiss my forehead, nose, and so so softly on my lips. My chin, neck, shoulder. The new position lets you fuck me at a different angle that's not so sensitive, letting you drag it out even longer. But as the tension builds again, I notice our new position lets you grind against my clit while you're inside me.

I'm pinned to the bed in a puddle of squirt and sweat and something about the helpless depravity of my situation makes me give up and accept my fate of being fucked by you for the rest of eternity. My hips open slightly wider when I relax and your eyes lock on to mine.

"I'm going to to fuck a baby into you. Your body is relaxing and opening up for me. Modern medicine can't stop what your body wants. Be honest" you pause at the confused concerned look on my face "if you got pregnant from this, it's almost worth it"

I'd have to name them Pleasure was my first response but my voice was quickly taken away from me again because you shifted back into a fast pace. Pressing sloppy wet kisses on my face, mouth, neck, chest. I'm delighted by the breath of fresh air when you pull back but I feel you missing from me immediately. A whimper, your eyes go absolutely feral. The look on your face is not fucking around anymore. This has all been for me, preparing me for something I haven't been shown yet.

You pin my hips between your hands like those breeding pins for cattle. I can't move, you have your shot lined up. A wave of panic comes up but you are actually thrusting in earnest this time. You're not trying to make me cum, this is your moment. The pleasure is overwhelming, unlike anything I felt with anyone before or since.

Please

More whimpers escape my lips. Please, I need it. I'm stunned to realize what I need is your cum inside me. I will be heartbroken if you took me through this whole journey and I don't get to feel your warm sticky load shoot deep inside me. I'm begging for it. Please, I need it, I whimper into your ear. Your perfect fuck toy, lined up perfectly for your breeding cock, begging for your seed, my body convulses, waves of contracting muscles spasm through my whole body, my spirit ascends to the astral plane, I see stars and my place in the cosmos. You throb against me and I cry out in pleasure, shooting cum deep into my womb. I latch onto you, I need every drop, need every inch of your skin touching me, need to feel your heaving chest, spent with the effort.

I promise I wouldn't be mad if I got pregnant from something like that

[eyyawe]

Something I've been kinda working on, I have no idea where to put it so yaaayy

Feel free to leave tips and constructive criticism! I would love to know how to format this and yadada

Evermore part one

The Stream

Aconite woke to the sun rays peaking through her window and a pleasant aroma whisking through her bedroom. Gently setting her feet on the floor, she stretched and slipped a robe over herself. The hanging vines in the room dropped against the wooden walls adding a homey charm. Winter's cold months brought hardship and coziness to her quaint tiny home. She prepared a hardy breakfast but was interrupted by Tara.

    "Addy, dear, can you please prepare some supper? It's quite hard for me, you know." Tara spoke. Of course, Tara didn't call Aconite by her real name. All nymphs knew that. Names were sacred for a good reason.

    "Of course, Tara. You're always welcome to supper. I always make extra for that reason."

Tara was an elder with light blue skin, unlike Aconite's lavender. She was an important figure in the village, and many people treated her with the utmost respect.

    "You're such a nice woman." Tara smiled, sitting down at a small table. "I'm worried for us."

    "Why do you say?" Aconite turned towards Tara, tilting her head.

    "They say them humans come closer and closer to here every day. It's no wonder people have gone missing! They've all snatched them up! Eaten 'em'! Stolen their blood for weapons again! Used them as silly doll toys!" Tara exclaimed.

    "Tara, enough." She tightened her fists. Her tail violently hit the ground.

    "I'm sorry. You know, it's got me worried and all. We've been through so much. Every day we lose people. We don't even know how many are suffering as you and I did," She paused abruptly, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Nymphs used to be a powerful species! We used to walk along with the humans! Live in castles! Engage in warfare! We used to be the most respected species in the land! Now, look at us! The tiny people who live in the forests whose blood and name will fare you well! I curse the god who did this to us!"

    "That was hundreds of years ago. Do you think there is anything we can do about it now?" She barked back.

    "Yes! We can fight, of course!"

    "Us? That would be silly!" She shook her head and placed a meal in front of Tara.

    "Hrmph."

    "What's really bothering you?" Aconite inquired.

    "A boy. He's been out by the stream, nearly scared the hell out of some young children. Thankfully they were not spotted, of course. I thought he would go away, but he's stayed. No idea why. He's even stayed at night. Slept all alone. It almost makes me feel bad for them."

"I will go investigate it by noon, okay? Would that let you rest easy?"

    "Why, yes! But please be careful. I can't lose you! Alright?" Tara commanded.

    "I won't. It's just right there. There would be no use in engaging. Maybe I can just run him off. Humans are easy to fool, but-"

    "But curious! He'll catch one glance of your tail and snatch you!" She interrupted.

    "Good Olympus, please. For such a wise elder, you're a very stubborn one." She sneered. Aconite sat down, tucking her long, dark amethyst hair behind her pointed ears. Tara muttered nonsense while eating, which annoyed Aconite, but she couldn't stay irritated for long. She had a point. Even a child was dangerous to them. They needed to be very careful with everything that had to do with humans or, frankly, anyone bigger than them. They only periodically interacted with fae, but it got too risky.

"I'll be back. I promise." She stepped outside the house and onto a branch.

Once she had reached the bank, she noticed a young boy, no older than seven, asleep in a pile of snow. Aconite peered out of the grass beside him, seeing his odd position. 

    "He must be cold..." She murmured.

Something in her had possessed her to help him. A poor young boy out here alone would not last long. She crept close to him and silently placed her hand on the small amount of fabric that showed through near his ankle. Her hand glowed and began to warm the young boy; he suddenly jerked up, almost stepping on Aconite in the process. He yawned and then looked at her with a curious but devious look. Panic rushed over Aconite, and she ran towards the tree, but he was too fast. The boy scooped her up and shook her, poking and prodding her. She opened her mouth to sink her fangs into his hand but failed miserably, desperately trying to keep her eyes open. The violent swing of his hands made her heart race, and vile began to swell in the back of her throat. She thought this mistake was awful; she should've certainly listened to her elder.

    The boy swung his arms back and forth before he got bored with her and shoved her into a small pouch. By then, the movements had gotten to her, and she had utterly fainted. An older man, seemingly around the same age as Aconite, approached the young boy. He had been running for quite some time, as seen by the sweat rolling down his face.

    "Simon, are you mad? You could've been hurt! Gods, I have been looking everywhere for you!" He addressed the boy sternly.

    "I just wanted to come by this creek! It bothers me when you don't take me anywhere, and besides! I've been stuck with you for a week! I'm sorry-" Simon pouted. His lower lip quivered like a baby's.

    "Don't do it again. Ever. Do you understand me? There are dangerous things out here. This place is notorious for nymphs too...." He looked around. "Let's just head home, okay?"

    Simon nodded hesitantly and walked ahead of him with the attitude of a hurt puppy. The man pushed his frames against his face and carefully watched. The pair headed towards their bungalow, Simon's antics entirely unknown to the man. For now, the package was for Simon and Simon only.

[embracing-the-ineffable]

The Wizard of Uz and Good Omens

Some interesting info about the Wizard / Land of Uz, partway through this sermon (tw if you follow the link, it begins with a very sad story):

It begins like this: "Once upon a time there was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job." "Once upon a time" it begins. This tips us off that what follows is a fairy tale. .... Unbeknownst to Job however, his world is about to come crashing down around his ears. His livelihood is destroyed, all his beautiful sons and daughters are killed, and even Job himself is stricken with a horrible skin disease.

This trouble is the device which sets the plot in motion because we are left to wonder how this pious man will react. What will be the human response to all this misery? There are at least three responses to the problem of evil in the Book of Job.

Job's wife just wants to give up on God. She tells her husband “Curse God and die!" Her solution to the problem of pain is No Theology, or A-theology.

Job’s friends come to help but all they can give Job are the hackneyed bromides of traditional theology—the theology of the academy. All they can give him are Calvin's Institutes and Luther's Catechism and Barth's Dogmatics, but the theology of the academy doesn't work when you're standing next to an open grave and what you really need is Valium to kill the grief and morphine to kill the pain. The friends’ response is Book Theology.

The third response to evil is that of Job himself. He refuses to curse God and die. He knows there's a God. He has always believed in God and he's not going to stop now. "Naked came I from my mother's womb” he says “and naked shall I return. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

Job comes up with—what shall I call it?—a Lived Theology perhaps, or a Protest Theology. Job decides to hang onto God for dear life even if it means he will hang, period."

Though he slay me, yet shall I trust him," says the King James version of Job 13:15.

So, Aziraphale has something in common with Job, that unwavering faith in God, even if heaven and the angels are a mess. And Crowley might have something in common with Job's wife Sitis...

But it continues!

Augustine called her (Sitis) adiutrix diaboli, Satan's Secretary, or Assistant to the Diabolical One. Calvin used pretty much the same words when he called her the organum Satanae, the instrument of Satan.

And I suppose Augustine and Calvin were pretty much on target with their remarks, because after all she was trying to get her husband to do exactly what Satan wanted him to do—curse God and die. In one sense, she really was Satan’s assistant, or Satan’s instrument.

For Sidites, Job's unshakeable reverence for God is equivalent to an irreverence for the sacred lives of her children. She says to herself, "If Job can still love God after what God did to my children, he couldn't possibly have loved my children."

Or, if this is a metaphor for Crowley, he's perhaps thinking, "If Aziraphale can still love God and return to heaven after what they did to me, and tried to do to us, and tried to do to humanity, he couldn't possibly love me or us or humanity they way I thought he might..." ("Tell me you said no.")

Then, it continues! We learn that Satan is God's servant, and known as The Satan, and because Satan doesn't have any independent will of power outside of God's, the bet and Job's punishment came from God. We learn that Bildad is one of Job's friends. There's a quote, "sometimes, we discover our friends when we lose our God."

And there's another friend, Elihu, about whom the author says, "What Elihu gets right is the need for God’s gift of friendship. Not a friend to convince you you are wrong, but a one in a million friend, an angel, or advocate who will intervene on your behalf, to save you from the depths, who brings you back from the brink. Do you know that friend who believes you and will stand by you through anything?" And that part concludes with, "This is the mystery. Multiple things can be true at the same time: God is good. Suffering is real. It might teach us something. It might not. But a good friend, who believes us, who loves us, who shows up no matter what will make all the difference. May we know that friend. May we be that friend."

Further parts go on to explain the seemingly inexplicable ramblings of God from the show about whales and whatnot; She's trying to make a point about the vastness of the universe and how it's beautiful but not FOR people, it's meant to be beautiful and dramatic but not safe.

I like knowing the story that inspired parts of the Job minisode, and thinking about how those parallels might play out in season three. I hope you enjoy it, too!

[tranquilspot]

John: Captchalogue GameBro.

It might come in handy if you ever need something that burns easily.

The ecologist part in me is growling, but on the other hand good riddance. Alright, I'll try to speed up a bit. I kinda want to reach the part where the beta is installed, preferably in June.

John: Captchalogue magician's hat.

You expend your final card on the MAGICIAN'S HAT.

No more room in the sylladex.

John: Get funny glasses too.

You don't have a free card in your SYLLADEX! However, you are able to MERGE the BEAGLE PUSS with the MAGICIAN'S HAT to create a CLEVER DISGUISE.

Merging! What was the other concept again? Starting with a 'c'. In c.. *search in past posts* conjunction! Mark that down, writers, write that down.

John: Wear disguise to fool dad.

*raise eyebrow*

John? Who is this "John" you speak of? You are quite certain there has never been, nor ever will be... Yeah, this is a really shitty disguise.

No shit, Sherlock! Points for trying at the very least.

While you are wearing the items, they remain on the card, but it is temporarily removed from the deck, thus freeing up the cards beneath it.

*sigh* wasted potential for cool shit and shenanigans.

Finally!

CW: major spoilers of themes, key objects, characters and places Edit: I confused "hallowed" with "hollowed" so I changed my commentary accordingly

John: Leave room.

So, I learned recently that the harlequin paintings are different in the books, because of copyrights issues? I don't recall exactly, just that it has to be changed.

On one wall hangs a picture of a fella who sure knows how to have a laugh, a man after your own heart. You always thought he looked a lot like Michael Cera. […]

Don't ask me, I wouldn't know. Though I do know that it's a picture that come up first in images search, so we can conclude that it's just a random dude.

But your DAD swears on the many HALLOWED TOMBS of Egypt that it is not. You're not sure about that though.

Interesting choice of words here. We have "hallowed tombs" and "egypt". The tombs and resting places in general are a main theme in the alpha teens' session in Act 6. Important to note that grieving deceased kin is also a significant theme in Homestuck. Egypt echoes to pyramids, which can be briefly seen on Roxy's Land. There's also the Cairo Overcoat, a garment juju worn by the Big Bad himself, that can turn into a transportation device, a flying sarcophagus. A early mention of those themes, which I'm pretty sure weren't plotted at this point of the story. Though I wonder why DAD specifically swore on these? What does this entail? "I swear on a sacred tomb in a far away land". Shouldn't he swear on a closer person? For example 'I swear on my beloved deceased mother'?

'You're not sure about that though.' When you look deeper into it, John's right to be skeptical. Not for the same reasons obviously but he's right. Perhaps DAD is outrightly lying, out of embrassement or fear of copyright claims? Perhaps DAD is right, but his metaphor is dubious, thus casting suspicion on its veracity? It's all very silly. And the answer is shrouded in darkness. Hmm, swearing on an sacred tomb. I feel like there's a connection to LE, but I don't see what or how exactly. Also a 'hallowed tomb' could refer to a tomb raid by adventurers. Jake English/Harley?

On the other wall is one of your DAD'S stupid clowns. Or HARLEQUINS, as he is quick to correct anyone who would venture such brazen assumption.

Language dictates that distinction is important,

Having coulrophobia (fear of clowns) harlequins seem way more friendly. Mainly because of them wearing masks, and not necessarily makeup, which conceal more their face. And idk I always saw their behavior as creepy. Plus harlequins have pleasant and colorful clothes so points for them. Harlequin (or arlequin in french) is from the commedia dell'arte, according to Wikipedia. Wait 'an emissary of the devil'?! But I always thought Arlequin was a poor, mischievous dude that tricked the cops and hit people with his wand. I guess his depiction changed with time. Anyway, clown, jester and harlequin seem to belong to the same family tree. Their behavior, clothes and fonction is what is different. A jester serves royalty (or noblemen), make people laugh and have the privilege of mocking the king without getting punished. They are recognizable by their hat. In french, being 'un bouffon' is calling someone pathetic, or more commonly, a loser. A clown wears makeup, entertain people but mostly children nowadays, is often affiliate to a circus (not always), shape balloons, etc.. Clown is not only a profession, but also a more general behavior, whether it's to play to the gallery, being pathetic or being blatantly in denial (man progressively putting on a clown disguise meme) Harlequin is a poor man (pieces of cloth stiched together), comical valet depicted as lazy, having a great appetite (both for food and women), acrobatic, a trickster but mainly want to avoid making any effort. But back to Homestuck proper

—>

[brooklynislandgirl]

💋 from Nil with romance and reservations on the existence of good luck :3

Tabhair póg dom, is Éireannach mé || Accepting

Beth cannot express how glad she is when she hears a truck outside and a peek out the window proves it's not one of the National Guard. A few hikers have turned up missing and so there have been search and rescue parties all up and down the mountains which has put the entire Sept on alert and tension. None of the packs have admitted to having anything to do with the people who have gone missing. Most conventional wisdom muttered or growled under breath is that a few stupid humans aren't anything to be sad about, but the kinfolk and the elders know that that's just the rage of the young. They know that things could go bad with so many strangers poking around the sacred lands. Cubs are kept close, and a couple of the packs are now involved in the search. Beth doesn't know what to make of it all, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't scared. The last thing they want or need is a stand off between human soldiers and the tribes, the collateral damage is too high a cost. But for now, she lets out a breath and fixes a smile. In the reflection of the glass Beth finds herself trying to hurriedly fix a few stray wisps of hair back into place and straightens her dress. If she knew Nilza was going to come today, she would have put on her best dress. As it is, the light streaming in through the windows, the warmth from the over where supper's cooking, and the fresh baked scent of soda bread might have to be enough. The door is opened perhaps almost as soon as Nilza thinks about putting a hand on it and she's greeted with the warmest sort of welcome, a slim armed hug around her neck and maybe Beth lingers a little too long, breathing in the smell of her hair. By the end of the night though, Beth has forgotten all the things that had her blood buzzing like bees and while they curl up in front of the fire toasting the evening with the apple-shine, Nilza does mention her being at least part Irish. It's clear that the Latina doesn't really put stock in all the things Beth does, but they have different views. When Nilza asks if she really believes in it all, Beth laughs. "Better question would be…do you?" Her hand comes up and cups Nilza's cheek, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath a calloused thumb which she's almost apologetic for, but not quite. She wonders if Nilza can feel the faint tremble to that touch. "Idea behind it comes from kissin' the Blarney stone in its castle. Supposed to bring you luck an' t' bless ya with the skill of smooth talkin' flattery. Of course,w e're a long way from the auld sod…so I guess the next best thing is…kissin' someone who's Irish." It takes those few moments to work up the nerve to lean in. Green-gold eyes half lidded she focuses on Nilza's lips. How pretty they are. How soft they seem. Imagining them sweet with traces of apple warmth, counterpoint to the almost cinnamon nature of her own. A compliment like carved spoons nestled together. She remembers what the woman had said about what she'd do to someone like Frost if he'd kissed her without permission and Beth knows she's playing with fire but she can't help herself. She's been daydreaming about this for a while now, and she doesn't mean Nilza any harm. When her mouth presses against Nilza's, there's a certain kind of delicacy. No great urgency or desperation that turns into a bite or a flail. If anything it's maybe a little uncertain, the hesitation that comes from someone who doesn't really have any experience. But there's the intention of desire. Fingers that feather through Nilza's hair, the start of a shy smile that parts Beth's lips. "You're beautiful," she whispers. "Sweet." Then even more quietly if possible, a fervent sort of prayer. "Please don't be mad." Then she isn't saying anything at all, as she's too caught up in pulling Nilza closer for another more solid kiss.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Hobbit! Chapter 8

Sorry for the slight delay, folks. I had a migraine a few days ago and it just absolutely wiped me.

They walked in single file.

Much like another organization of their equivalent combat prowess, amirite? Or was that the Sand People? It's been so long. I need to rewatch Star Wars, but not the shitty remastered versions.

But the eyes that he liked the least were horrible pale bulbous sort of eyes. “Insect eyes,” he thought, “not animal eyes, only they are much too big.”

I wonder if Middle Earth had a lot more oxygen in the atmosphere to support such abominations or what. Also, there's really not much to mock with this chapter thus far - the building unease and tension is exactly what should be happening and the book's not undercutting it by infodumping or going too far... yet. We'll see if that keeps up in this long chapter.

They tried shooting at the squirrels, and they wasted many arrows before they managed to bring one down on the path. But when they roasted it, it proved horrible to taste, and they shot no more squirrels.

I dunno, hunger is the best sauce. But then, nuts grown in elf water probably don't encourage good meat.

“What’s the good of that? The boat is sure to be tied up, even if we could hook it, which I doubt.”

You know what you guys should be worrying about? Who owns the boat and why they left it here. But you're not going to do that, are you?

“How far away do you think it is?” asked Thorin, for by now they knew Bilbo had the sharpest eyes among them.

Note again that Bilbo is the real MVP. Thorin retains usefulness mostly by delegating effectively.

“Dori is the strongest, but Fili is the youngest and still has the best sight,” said Thorin.

Is this the first time that Fili isn't mentioned alongside Kili?

“I’m always last and I don’t like it,” said Bombur. “It’s somebody else’s turn today.” “You should not be so fat. As you are, you must be with the last and lightest boatload. Don’t start grumbling against orders, or something bad will happen to you.”

Fuck off Tolkien.

“That was a good pull, my lads; and a good job that our rope was the stronger.”

Stronger than elven rope? It seems impossible.

Thorin was the only one who had kept his feet and his wits. As soon as they had landed he had bent his bow and fitted an arrow in case any hidden guardian of the boat appeared. Now he sent a swift and sure shot into the leaping beast.

Okay boys, we know y'all have fairy tales, so why are you being dumb and shooting sacred forest guardians? This never ends well for the shooter.

They were still standing over him, cursing their ill luck, and Bombur’s clumsiness, and lamenting the loss of the boat which made it impossible for them to go back and look for the hart, when they became aware of the dim blowing of horns in the wood and the sound as of dogs baying far off.

Okay point of order, Bombur wasn't clumsy, he was nearly jumped by the hart. Also look at that, the consequences of their actions are showing up.

“Stop! stop!” shouted Thorin; but it was too late, the excited dwarves had wasted their last arrows, and now the bows that Beorn had given them were useless.

Note that Bombur, who is unconscious, did not participate in this stupidity.

Of course “somebody” meant Bilbo.

I hope these dwarves are ashamed of how useless they've been so far. Crew coulda just sent Bilbo and an atlas and the story would only be different in the sense that he would have made fewer enemies along the way.

They did not care tuppence about the butterflies, and were only made more angry when he told them of the beautiful breeze, which they were too heavy to climb up and feel.

The dwarves are also against good environmental description, which is a shame because this chapter has it in spades, though it is starting to drag just a little.

“I was having such beautiful dreams. I dreamed I was walking in a forest rather like this one, only lit with torches on the trees and lamps swinging from the branches and fires burning on the ground; and there was a great feast going on, going on for ever. A woodland king was there with a crown of leaves, and there was a merry singing, and I could not count or describe the things there were to eat and drink.”

I wonder how much of this magic Tolkien intended to be kind of real in some way, as if Bombur's presence really was with the woodland king, and how much was just foreshadowing. It's too fairy tale to fit the overall world, but it seems like it should mean something.

This they did all that day, going very slowly and wearily; while Bombur kept on wailing that his legs would not carry him and that he wanted to lie down and sleep.

On the one hand, this only happened to Bombur because Tolkien hates him for being fat. On the other hand, it's extremely annoying. I'm not sure how to adjust my Bombur rankings as a result.

No sooner had the first stepped into the clearing than all the lights went out as if by magic.

Mirkwood elves are somehow even more dickish than the Rivendell kind. I see right away why dwarves aren't remotely fond of them.

“I was having such a lovely dream,” he grumbled, “all about having a most gorgeous dinner.”

Interesting that he passes out when it's just him but the feast disappears altogether when it's the group. Is Bilbo more welcome to the feast because he's not a dwarf? But then why let Bombur dream about the party at all?

But the cries of the others got steadily further and fainter, and though after a while it seemed to him they changed to yells and cries for help in the far distance, all noise at last died right away, and he was left alone in complete silence and darkness.

Is this a punishment for bringing the dwarves along? Poor hungry dwarves thinking that the third try would be any different. They should have just tried to eat more squirrels instead, except of course they wasted all their arrows like scrubs.

So he sat himself down with his back to a tree, and not for the last time fell to thinking of his far-distant hobbit-hole with its beautiful pantries.

Keep your eyes open folks, we gotta find that last time!

He beat the creature off with his hands—it was trying to poison him to keep him quiet, as small spiders do to flies—until he remembered his sword and drew it out.

Don't know why anyone would want to read about competent heroes when Bilbo's exploits are so much funnier.

Bilbo came at it before it could disappear and stuck it with his sword right in the eyes.

He must have been aiming for something else based on his track record.

“I will give you a name,” he said to it, “and I shall call you Sting.”

And now that Sting has a name we can officially make it the competent member of the party! But also, Bilbo totally earned this.

“O! why did we not remember Beorn’s advice, and Gandalf’s!”

Because you were pretty much starving. I'd give you shit for it in literally any other circumstance Bilbo, but not that one.

Their voices were a sort of thin creaking and hissing, but he could make out many of the words that they said.

So Wargs have their own language even though they're allied with speakers of the common tongue, but Spiders, who presumably have no allies whatsoever, are perfectly understandable to Hobbits? It's another fairy tale moment in the story.

To the fattest of these bundles the spider went—“It is poor old Bombur, I’ll bet,” thought Bilbo—and nipped hard at the nose that stuck out. There was a muffled yelp inside, and a toe shot up and kicked the spider straight and hard. There was life in Bombur still.

One of the advantages to size is that it takes more to dose a fella, so points to Bombur!

Bilbo was a pretty fair shot with a stone, and it did not take him long to find a nice smooth egg-shaped one that fitted his hand cosily. As a boy he used to practise throwing stones at things, until rabbits and squirrels, and even birds, got out of his way as quick as lightning if they saw him stoop; and even grownup he had still spent a deal of his time at quoits, dart-throwing, shooting at the wand, bowls, ninepins and other quiet games of the aiming and throwing sort—indeed he could do lots of things, besides blowing smoke-rings, asking riddles and cooking, that I haven’t had time to tell you about.

Props to Tolkien for explaining why the genteel Bilbo can throw but not climb or swim. Feels a bit like a D&D player trying to justify an odd stat spread too, so that's another thing Gygax stole.

Not very good perhaps, but then you must remember that he had to make it up himself, on the spur of a very awkward moment.

He did better than the elves, who clearly made up a song in the spur of a moment that wouldn't have been awkward if they'd kept their mouths shut.

The spiders saw the sword, though I don’t suppose they knew what it was, and at once the whole lot of them came hurrying after the hobbit along the ground and the branches, hairy legs waving, nippers and spinners snapping, eyes popping, full of froth and rage.

First of all if I have to read this spider description, you do too. But second of all, how often does the ring fail to cover accessories and weaponry going forward? I don't know that Frodo gets very stabby in stealth mode but I'm not sure. On the other hand, this follows the same principle as the Nazgul where you have to have a foot in the material world to be able to affect the material world (otherwise they'd just wander around invisibly stabbing everything that looked like it might thwart Sauron's plans).

“Most likely Fili,” he thought by the tip of a long nose poking out of the winding threads.

Poor Kili will never be his own person, will he? (The sentence two paragraphs from now doesn't count.)

Suddenly Bilbo noticed that some of the spiders had gathered round old Bombur on the floor, and had tied him up again and were dragging him away.

It just sucks to be Bombur. Poor guy.

There they were at last, twelve of them counting poor old Bombur, who was being propped up on either side by his cousin Bifur, and his brother Bofur; and Bilbo was dancing about and waving his Sting; and hundreds of angry spiders were goggling at them all round and about and above. It looked pretty hopeless.

Shouldn't there be fourteen, since the whole point of adding Bilbo to the party was to AVOID 13? Who is missing? (It's Thorin, though sadly the narrative doesn't quite mention every other dwarf before they realize what's up.)

“I am going to disappear,” he said.

Dammit Bilbo, this is no time to emulate Gand- Oh right you mean the ring. Heh. It would be funny if Gandalf's ring made him invisible too and instead of ditching the party all the time he was actually just chilling, blowing air-colored smoke rings and laughing quietly.

Balin in particular insisted on having the Gollum story, riddles and all, told all over again, with the ring in its proper place.

Which let Bilbo really enforce his bullshit lies, I suppose. Shame Gandalf wasn't present to call him out.

All except Balin. Long after the others had stopped talking and shut their eyes, he kept on muttering and chuckling to himself.

Balin retains his best dwarf status for finding his getting bested like this absolutely hilarious.

All of a sudden Dwalin opened an eye, and looked round at them. “Where is Thorin?” he asked.

Ah yes here we go, that's why there's 12. Little jerks should respect their king!

All this was well known to every dwarf, though Thorin’s family had had nothing to do with the old quarrel I have spoken of. Consequently Thorin was angry at their treatment of him, when they took their spell off him and he came to his senses; and also he was determined that no word of gold or jewels should be dragged out of him.

Tolkien says the Wood-Elves aren't wicked and then talks about how thousands of years ago they tried to steal honest laborers out of their pay and got pissy when the laborers took it. Now they're still upset and blame all dwarves, even Thorin, though he had nothing to do with this justice. I'm not sure Tolkien knows what wickedness is.

“But what brought you into the forest at all?” asked the king angrily. At that Thorin shut his mouth and would not say another word.

Thorin shoulda just said Gandalf.

There in the king’s dungeon poor Thorin lay; and after he had got over his thankfulness for bread and meat and water, he began to wonder what had become of his unfortunate friends. It was not very long before he discovered; but that belongs to the next chapter and the beginning of another adventure in which the hobbit again showed his usefulness.

And here's the end of another chapter, one of the longest in the books. The spider fights (the latter of which I didn't quote much as it's just tense and exciting) and general horror of the forest are quite nice, so overall I appprove after the last couple of weaker chapters, but I do think there could have been a little trimming here and there. We're more than halfway through now though, and the chapters really get smaller, so expect that tension to really bubble up.