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(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ General Finn

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same with sista, brotha, motha, etc etc

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I thought I'd share this little bullshit snippet. I'm taking a break from like all other forms of social media, but felt bad because I haven't posted any original content in what feels like agesssssssss.

So, here we are! It's a piece I wrote a long time ago (think before December) for Cerrebryn and Ondolemar. His voice is like really good in this one??? Like normally I write him with an American accent (cause that's what I have and I'm lazy), but writing him in the BBC accent (forget what it's called, see above description: lazy) worked like really well? I'll warn you though, it was just a little blurb the brain worm was niggling at me to write so it ain't the best. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Calcelmo Gets A Date

Cerrebryn skipped up the stairs. Dinya Balu had sent her to Markarth. Her mission? Spreading Mara’s message. It was midday, yet her target was still at work. He never seemed to rest or eat. Aicantar shot her a warning glance as she walked up to his uncle. She tapped on his shoulder and waited.

After a moment, he answered, “Yes, yes, what do you need? I’m a very busy man.” She grinned, “Calcelmo of Markarth?” He flapped a hand impatiently at his enchanting table, “I have no time for such pleasantries.” “I’ve been sent by Lady Mara.” His demeanor instantly changed. The wizard turned, joy sparking in his amber eyes, “I was beginning to worry you’d never arrive. Come, take a walk with me.” They left Ancarion behind in a stupor.

He led her up the nearby tower and took a seat on a spindly stool. “I hope you’ll excuse an old man’s paranoia. I’ve been thinking about her quite a bit. Do you know Faleen?” He said her name like a prayer, devotion obvious even in his tone. “The Jarl’s Housecarl?” Calcelmo nodded, “Yes. She is a beauty like none other. Even the fairest maidens of Alinor could never compare.” Noticing he was rambling, he coughed and continued, “My trouble is, I can’t seem to speak around her. My mouth goes dry and I begin shaking...or maybe that’s the side effects of prolonged exposure to Aetherium? An interesting thought, but I digress.” Cerrebryn sighed, a familiar Thalmor face flashing through her mind, “I understand. Is there anything you can talk about?” The old man shook his head wearily, “Faleen can turn on you fast as a sabercat if you bring up the wrong topic. I’ve seen it happen.” “Is there anyone she’s close to that we can talk with?” His brow furrowed, “Only one, Yngvar. Would you speak to him for me?” She nodded tiredly and left. It was strange how she was also roped into these matters.

She stepped out into the waning sunlight and stretched. Cerrebryn snorted. Mara had sent her on a quest to heal the broken hearts of Skyrim, yet she had one as well. It seemed like the divines had a sense of irony at least. It could never happen anyway. The Thalmor were an order of warriors famed for their rigidity and focus on pure-blooded breeding. Shaking her head, she dispelled those notions and kept walking.

Yngvar was resting against the side of a bridge, picking his teeth with a dagger. “Do you know what Faleen likes?” He glanced up at her, danger dancing in his eyes, “What’s it to you?” “I have a mission from the temple of Mara.” “Is that some roundabout way of saying you fancy her?” She paused, debating whether she should reveal Calcelmo’s affections, “Not me, but a friend.” He smiled slyly, “I see. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’m glad; Faleen needs a little warmth. Her soft spot is poetry.” Cerrebryn thanked him, turning to leave. After two steps he called out, “You know, I was trained as a bard.” She pivoted and he continued, “I’ve got an old poem for a lady from Rorikstead. I could change it...if you’ve got the coin.” “How much?” “Two hundred.” She easily removed the Septims from her pouch and handed them to the brute. “Let me write it down so you won’t forget.” Yngvar scratched away at the paper with his bit of charcoal. Cerrebryn had pulled out Lydia’s latest letter from home. “Who is this poem from?” She stopped reading, “Calcelmo.” He laughed, “That sly old codger.” Finished, the poem traded hands, “Tell him I wish his endeavor luck.”

The sun had set while she was outside, and all the torches were being lit across the city and into the Keep. Edging around one of the guards assigned with the job, she skipped up to the dias. Faleen immediately tensed, but relaxed when she realized who it was. Raerek grinned at her, always the kindest person in the Keep. “Can I help you, young one?” She shook her head, hair becoming a bit disheveled, and chirped, “Nope! Just here to drop something off for Faleen!” The Redguard woman glanced up suddenly when the folded sheet was thrust into her hand. “Apologies if some of it is smudged, I-” The other woman opened the paper and read it. Then, she ripped a sheet of parchment off a shelf and began scribbling rapidly with a fresh quill. The steward and Jarl exchanged nervous glances, but they went unseen.

When she turned around, Faleen’s eyes were filled with stars. “Would you mind delivering this for me?” She sighed softly at the end of her sentence and Cerrebryn giggled behind her hand. Taking the paper, she left, announcing, “Off I go!” She walked with haste, this time bumping into the object of her affections. The Thalmor’s large hands caught her around the waist, preventing what would have been a nasty fall, “Cerrebryn, what is the meaning-” She plucked his arms (she swooned on the inside, realizing they were corded with muscle) off her body, and sheepishly smiled back at him as she ran off, “Sorry Ondolemar! I’ve got a delivery to make!”

In truth, she would have liked to spend a millennium in those arms. But, she was on an errand that shouldn’t be delayed. Matters of the heart are things of the now, not of the thousand years later. The woman ran through the tunnel, nearly tripping on a stray piece of rubble. Calcelmo was sitting on a bench, deeply immersed in examining a chip of Aetherium. She skidded to a stop at his feet, puffing, “From...Faleen...” Aicantar stared at the odd pair. The conjurer ripped it out of her hand and shot to his feet, “This is...fantastic! If you’ll excuse me, I must go see Faleen.” And with that, he ran out of the workshop. Frankly, he was faster than she had thought he could go.

Cerrebryn trailed behind him, still a bit winded. He continued running, straight up to the Housecarl. She peeked around the dias’s corner, like a child. Igmund’s brows had raised in surprise, but Raerek just continued serenely smiling. Calcelmo fidgeted, his large frame towering over the smaller woman. “Faleen...I...” She captured his hand with her own, “Shhh, no need for words...I never realized you were so nuanced.” He stared down at her, then clutched their joined hands to his heart, “I love you.” She smiled radiantly, “So I hear. Come here, you.” Then, using her warrior’s strength, she dipped him and joined their lips. Igmund stared at his steward, eyes bulging, a mix of surprise and slight horror plain across his features. Raerek simply shrugged.

Cerrebryn grinned, glad they were happy. Helping Dinya and the Temple was rewarding and worth any long trips zigzagging the province. Someone was sneaking nearer to her. The only warning was a rustle of robes and a whiff of Dragon’s Breath. The air above her ear warmed with his breath. “Was that your doing?” She glanced back at Ondolemar and her lips quirked upwards in a slight grin, “Dinya sent me on a mission. I just had to!” He sighed, “Must you fix everything?” Her grin widened a bit, “You know me. Everyone deserves a happy ending.” Ancarion wandered in, disgust and shock warring on his face at the sight of his uncle and the Housecarl locking lips. The couple split apart, Raerek clapping lightly. He stumbled back to the workshop with a befuddled expression.

His chest brushed against her back as he leaned in further, “Except you, right?” She bit her lip a bit at the slight huskiness of his voice. It was surely unintentional but made him all the more attractive. “I’ll get mine eventually. After all, there’s still nearly three hundred years left for me. If it takes two hundred seventy-five, at least I helped some folks!” Ondolemar chuckled lightly, changing the subject entirely, “Could I speak with you outside Dibella’s temple at midnight?” Cerrebryn nearly fainted. Was he asking to have a courtship meeting?! She quickly chastised herself. No, a “superiorly bred mer” wouldn’t sully himself with someone who wasn’t a purebred Alinor maiden. The woman nodded happily anyway, excited, “It’s a date!”

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US Elevation.

by @cstats1

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Why do right-wing memes make us look so cool. I support these gay anarchists and their dog backpack

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“The further colour recedes in time and space the stronger it glows. Golden memories. Not the gold of wedding rings in the High Street Ratners, but a philosophic gold which glows in the mind like the precious stones in Revelation. Emerald, Ruby, Jacinth, Chalcedony, Jasper. Colour, like these jewels, is precious. Even more precious, as unlike the sparklers, it cannot be possessed. Colour slips through the fingers and escapes. You can’t lock it in a jewel box as it vanishes in the dark.”

— Derek Jarman, Chroma

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goodbye cruel world *tearfully starts plowing through fistfulls of gummy vitamins, well above the daily recommended dosage*

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acab

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🥺🥺🥺

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The Terror: Infamy - 2x10 - “Did something happen tonight? In the war?”

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hey here’s arizona senator sinema (a democrat queen!) killing the $15 minimum wage with a cute lil curtsy and probably doing an adorbs widdle pout behind her mask as she denies millions of workers a livable income, slayyy!

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More Pedro art! The angle gave off some strong statue of David vibes, so I drew a marble statue version as well 

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FBI can't read public social media posts? They don't monitor anyone unless an open investigation?

That is laughable.

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my wife’s so cute because we both love animals so much but her way is very pure and genuine whereas my family is:

me, holding up my cat: stinky

wife: no!! don’t be mean!!!

me, swaying him back and forth in the air: stinky bastard man

wife: No!!!!!!!!

my mother, not looking up from chopping veggies: naughty boy. brat cat

wife, distraught: NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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twitter is incredible