#Axe trader

[amgracy]

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[neonhellscape]

this started out with p2 figuring out marazhai then after one drawing devolved into. whatever these are.

[marzipanandminutiae]

it's not ALWAYS like this, of course; some of them were okay. but. A Worrying Amount Of Bad Stuff Gets Glossed Over

growing up in the southeastern US as a girl in the early 00s was like

"hey kids, this white woman did something unusual and independent in the early-mid 19th century, despite the misogyny of her time! girl power!"

[5-10 years later when you do your own research]

"so, here's how many human beings she, specifically, held in bondage, and-"

(I'm not saying this would be as easy to explain to kids as "if your classmate is really good at drawing, that's good, right? but it's bad if she also pushes people down on the playground. sometimes people do good things in one way, and bad things in another." but. it definitely would)

[spotinthespiral]

So apparently I never posted him, but here's my Pitty npc because I think my pirate would be far more attached to her Bear Family in Grizzleheim than her birth parents :) (His name is Dain Ironside)

[aezyrraeshh]

also i think it's pretty smart of me to give angela a big axe instead of a variety of guns the game offers.. a peak character design 😌

[ads-on-my-socials]

today's content: an interesting blip!! tumblr's recommended tags for certain words seem to throw out tabloid headlines.

try it yourself! check out the words "devastated", "gamers", "police probe". notice if you follow the tags, you probably won't find any real uses.

see tags for examples I found :)

[shinjisdone]

𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Nightmares, detailed gore and killing, slavery, humiliation, hallucinations, slight romanticization of death/wishing someone to be dead, slight panic]

Time And Time Again, My Hopes Are Gone...

Far west, across the sea is a land. Rich of fertile ground and warm all year round. He can see the stillness of the meadow as the wind softly blows through the trees.

The wilderness is untouched. Far away from slave traders and the flames of war. The sun is benign with its rays that gently fall on his skin. It's warm and quiet. A gale so soft it embraces his throbbing pain.

Far to the west, across the rich and green hill, is a figure drawing closer. Colors clashing with the soft sky and land, washed out compared to the world around him. Nevertheless, he feels his heart picking up on speed and appraoches the figure with painstakingly slow steps.

The colors and the gear are still the same. Old and bented, abused and dull and so was the glare in their eyes. He should not feel a thing here, knowing this gaze all too well, but it still festered fear inside his heart when it is directed at him. The clear blue sky grows red and the sun fled.

Still, somehow he was able to crack a strained, faltering smile. "...What are you doing here?" He needed to take a deep breath, "You still look the same...like yesterd-"

"What the hell are you talking about, dog?"

The feigning smile was wiped off his face in an instant as his eyes widened. He could feel his muscles aching again, his stomach grumbling, his heart shattering.

You looked at him with such distain in your eyes.

It's Like A Never-Ending Marathon...

"How can you even act like this? Does all of this mean nothing to you?"

His breath hitched in his throat, burning hot and sickening as the quietness of the world was cut down by the incoming roars emerging from the scenery behind you. Pumping up their spears and axes, they tainted the meadow red as small figures galloped across the sky. The fires were following closely after them.

"You left...left me, and left this massacre behind you as you trailed over the sea."

Chants of victories rung in his ears as the flames consumed the both of you. The herd of men loud and clear but always seemed too far to touch and reach. There you still stood, your glare as dark as thunder and never-changing.

"Coward. Deranged mutt. Calling yourself a warrior."

Jaw agape, he watched with white, bulging eyes the scene behind you. It was all too familiar that it should have kick in an instinct - but all he could feel was terror.

With a swift pull to your back, you drew the blade out before plunging it with a sprint down to his abdomen. He barely could let out a scream. Instead, wide agape, he looked down with darting eyes to see his father's dagger.

A crooked grin decorated your visage as you twisted the dagger, cut further, deeper horizontally before yanking it out. Blood tainted your skin.

He could feel himself fall. Fall longer, deeper, faster, down, down, down, and down before a scream pulled him out.

I Hear Voices Every Night Of The Ones I Left Behind...

The same quietness he dreamed about surrounds him in the hut. No, a barn it was. It didn't have a door and he constantly reeked of hay and manure.

Right - this was the barn on the farm.

Sluggishly, he got up as pieces of hay fell off his worn out tunic. With a slow and steady gate his legs carried him to the well standing still and cold in the early morning, the sun having risen just a moment ago as well. He reached out with rough and calloused hands to the cold water and splashed it on his face. Always three times at least as the master told him. With each splash, his mind and vision got clearer and finally, he breathed freely.

What a strange nightmare. This hollow feeling expanding in his heart remained even in the waking world but he cannot recall from what.

As the sun rose higher, he made his way over the dirty, sandy road. Not a lot of the others were up and about as he was, though he only paid attention to the forest further away. The tired mutters of greetings flew over him, like a leaf in the cold wind. All he needed was the axe.

The axe cuts. It hits the sturdy trunk, chopping it away bit by bit, splinters of wood occasionally digging into his skin. Though it was as thick as the trees themselves, so no one ever heard a complaint from him.

The axe cuts. No tree shrieks in pain nor does anyone raise a brow at the lone man in the forest letting one tree fall after another. It keeps him awake and his muscles at work.

The axe cuts. The trees die and fall like flies, slowly - as it is with tree felling, he was told - down to every last twig and root it bears. Nothing can be left behind as the master wished it. All needs to be cleaned off the land so he can use it. So he cut and cut and cut.

"Thorfinn!"

Thorfinn halted. Stopped in his tracks as he was told and looked up through lidded, droopy, brown eyes. In the distance he saw a hand waving as the master galloped closer and with him, a younger slave.

Getting off the mount, he steadied his fall. Master Ketil was an older and seasoned farmer. His blonde hair growing thinner, broad but kind face decorated with wrinkles and his wealth showing in his round stomach. Once again, as he often does, he approached Thorfinn with a smile. "You will be getting a friend." Then he pointed behind him and the youngling followed hastily to bow. "This is Einar and he will be helping you starting tomorrow to fell the trees and turn it into fertile farm land. Einar, Thorfinn has been doing this for a bit longer than a year, he will show you around."

Brown eyes followed the man's gesture and fell on the younger one with kempt, auburn hair. Face young and with no stubbles, a small wart at the side of his nose - finished with an nervous and perplexed expression.

His own looked deep into the one of his new companion and found nothing but vapidness in them.

"Oh, uhm...it's nice to meet you." Einar tried to crack a smile. Thorfinn did not.

With a small chuckle of his own, Ketil pointed towards the small forest, talking of an subject Thorfinn had heard of time and time again.

Talks of fertile land, of wheat, of buying and selling, surpassing ones own price and freedom.

Freedom.

Did he have any of that ever in the first place? He doubted it.

But the new guy had a different opinion of it.

"Buying ourselves back?!" Einar stuttered, not believing what the farmer had just uttered, "We can get our freedom back if we just plant and sell the wheat to you?!"

Ketil jumped and blinked in surprise. "Why...yes. Does that not sound like a good deal to you?" "It's not that! N-Not at all! Thank you, thank you so much! I'll gratefully take the offer!"

Without another word, Einar sprinted deeper into the forest. Sighing heavily, Ketil settled back on his mount, ready to go back. "Do show him around for today Thorfinn and don't have him slack off after that. Both of you have a lot of work to do."

The blonde looked back at him with lidded eyes.

"Yes, master."

Dragging himself after the brunette, the young man watched him observe the area in awe. Trees loomed over the two and Einar swiftly turned back to the shorter man, his jaw agape.

"Thorfinn, was it?! Is that something you can do here in Denmark?! You - You can buy yourself out of slavery?!"

That I Love...

In the midmorning, Einar couldn't sit still.

Strenuously, he mimicked Thorfinn's day-to-day work. Inspecting each tree and root, yanking on them with his bare hands in hopes it might detach just a bit, and throwing questions.

Thorfinn found his keenness perplexing.

At noon, Einar awaited food.

Hearing about the service of the helpers, paid guests helping and guarding Ketil's farm, he grew ever so keen again. The helpers were not the kindest folk and seemingly the most hungry as well.

"What is there to complain?" One sneered as he appraoched Einar. The latter showed the crumbles and nibbled cheese in his rough hands instead. "This, this is our food? How is this supposed to be enough for two people? And it was obviously gnawed on!"

"So?" The second man of the trio sauntered closer with a wide grin. "Slaves like you should be grateful you can even eat a day. For someone so small and little, you sure talk big. We helpers wake up each and every day to bring food to lowly rats like you! And none of you even have the brains on how to thank someone for it!"

With a shaking gasp, Einar stepped back. The mere tone. The way the spit splashed on his face as he talks with that knowing glint in his dull eyes.

How could someone be like that? Just a year ago, he was surrounded by normal people, a village and family.

Once again, the helper spits as he scoffed. "Say it, dog," The grin grew ever so crooked as Einar's shock quickly transformed into rage. "Say 'thank you for the food'."

Breath hitched as the brunette took everything within him not to batter the man here and there. Balling a fist, he pulled back - before a smaller figure squeezed himself between the men and held out the crumbs of bread in his hands.

Thorfinn avoided the helper's gaze and looked down, as if giving a woeful prayer. "We thank you for the food."

Einar observed the tension dissolving, face that of an fish out of water, as Thorfinn returned to his work as if nothing happened.

In the afternoon, Einar hauled a sack of hay on his shoulder, heart feeling disarrayed.

Up ahead he followed Thorfinn who carried two sacks on his shoulders. He wondered how he does it despite his shorter and hunched form.

In fact, the blonde always seemed to hunch so far. He wondered how he does the entire labourous work in the first place.

"...How can you do all of this so easily? And with an empty stomach, too, day in and out. Chopping off the trees and then hauling them off the ground...like that old donkey was of any help." He pouted at the memory of the helpers bringing in an old, weak horse as 'aid' while they snoozed under the trees, "And you were so obedient to these jerks, too."

The walk continued to be quiet. The brunette continued to pout, making an even longer face at the one-sided conversation.

"You know, you can report that to the master! No, we should, have to do that! We are his property and these jerks treated us like were are lesser than that! He should know how his slaves are being treated and get rid of these pigs!"

The walk was silent after that as well. Thorfinn did not turn his back away neither show any sign of taking in his words. Einar only pouted even more and bit his tongue - momentarily.

"You're really strange."

As if struck by lightning, the blonde stopped. A force jolted through his muscles and bones that almost threatened to have him let go of the hay. The same force took a hold of his heart, like a fist squeezing it so tight with the intent to kill him. It won't let go.

Calming down from the start, Einar sped up in front of him with raised brows. The blonde's face was frozen in fear.

"...Thorfinn...?"

"What did you just say?"

"Uh," Quickly, he stepped back. Even the way Thorfinn managed to utter the question, jaw agape and frozen as well, perplexed him. "I said you're strange. Like, it's not like I dislike you it's just…just that I thought we could talk more. You're so quiet all the time but then get so obedient around these jerks but then act like you don't care-"

Agonizingly slow does he regain his body. With each word Einar spoke, Thorfinn nodded along, listened and had it ring in his head like a chant. Just as slow, he began walking again. "...I really am, aren't I?" He muttered after taking a deep breath.

"Eh, uhm, what?"

"Strange..."

I'm Trying To Find The Place Where I Belong...

Thorfinn was allowed to call it a day early for teaching Einar.

Today's chores were almost completed anyway with how tenacious his new companion had been. It was an insistence he could not comprehend.

The brunette did not expect much when Thorfinn showed him the way to the small barn, pointing to the heaps of hay and buckets at the corners. The master's house was across the road at least and the well free for him to use.

Einar also expected not much from his peer, as he had learned today when he quickly dozed off. He believed him to be anyway, when he stayed silent through all his questions.

Einar was strange...but the blonde reckoned he was, too.

That night, his visions turned into nightmares once again - but only to be left forgotten again in the morning.

A dark blue sea and an equally dark sky above. The wrath of the gods over the clouds and a hoard of monsters waging further away. He found himself lucky he wasn't so close.

But that relief was cut short by the freezing pain in his abdomen, as he looked down at you, teeth gritting like a beast. When did he grow taller than you?

He always thought you were the same height. Or were you the taller one?

With a growl, you swayed back with the dagger out of his flesh and thrusted it into it again. Labored breaths tried to escaped your gritted teeth, nosetrils flaring up as you only scolwed at him. With great effort and little strength, you drew the blade back and stabbed him again.

"Liar..." You croaked out, the smallest of hints of tears in your eyes, "This isn't where we're supposed to be. You liar..." Another sob and another attack. Blood oozed out of his open stomach like a broken spring and while the pain was unbearable, Thorfinn remained standing.

"You were supposed to take me somewhere that isn't here!"

He watched with terror as you drowned in his blood.

Einar shot up at the ear-splitting shriek. He wondered how none of the master's family had heard.

All he vividly remembered on his first night on the farm as a slave, was Thorfinn feeling up his abdomen in a mad frenzy, his eyes wide and jaw agape in a silent scream.

Until I Do, I Guess I'll Carry On...

The sun rises and the reek of manure still dwells in his nose. Einar was not dreaming of the farm.

But as he followed Thorfinn's demure figure, anxiously keeping up with his chores and strength, he cannot keep his eyes off of him. Of this strange guy and his hushed whispers in the night.

Again, he observed and stayed back this time as the blonde accepted the spit thrown on his face and food. The amount of labor he carries on his broken back with an lost look in his eyes.

So small and dry, brown so hazy and milky, he wonders if he can even see.

Einar stays back and listens as the master and his employers give him more work, more duties, more praises, more insults. He takes it all the same.

Then, at the setting of the sun, the young man still stays back and watches with the rest of the slaves nearby as Thorfinn dropped all he had carried diligently to the master, and sprinted to a small person further away.

His heart beat in his ears, ringing against his skull and Einar found himself surprised as he prayed that Thorfinn would not get in trouble for whatever he was doing there.

Not getting in trouble for the calloused hand that reached out for that person's shoulder, how they yelped out and whipped their head around at the contact with the man.

How they watched as Thorfinn's hopeful face slowly dimmed to shock - then reverted back to his nonchalant ignorance.

What a fool he was. No, it couldn't be. The words he heard, they weren't yours. This little slave, just a terrified child, may have talked like you - walked like you, had a stature like you, looked like you - but in their place, you wouldn't have frozen on the spot. You would have killed him, or he you, when you gazed upon him as you did time and time again.

Without another word, he let his hand fall to his side and dismissed Einar's concerns. The brunette apologized for Thorfinn's stead but the man was already on his way to the barn.

He didn't even know what he was thinking. How his mind could see a silhouette that could resemble you, mistake you, and start running after you. Thorfinn didn't know what he was doing.

The master was already used to his behaviour. Perhaps that's why he wanted to get rid of him while still gaining a bit of gold.

Trapped In Every Sacrifice, Feel Like I'm Gonna Lose My Mind...

Another night. Another new slave - a young, blonde woman - another curse from Einar about wars and beasts and another nightmare. It's what Thorfinn finally reckoned them as.

The demons that haunt him as he stabs them down for the earth to swallow. Your bloodied body holding a blade. The insults and spits thrown at him, his insides falling down into the sea. Your flailing arms as you cry for his help as the ground splits in two.

In the dead of the night, he checks for his companion, still seeing him to be asleep. Limply, Thorfinn forced himself to sit up.

The stars were as bright as ever. They were when you two were together but in the past year, the nightsky seemed different. Under it, all alone, he mumbled your name under his breath to remember you by.

That's right, he did not even have anything to remember you by, did he? Not a weapon, not a trinket, nothing. All that was left of you were the nightmares haunting his mind.

He hoped it was even less. In this cool, dark night, Thorfinn hoped you were dead. All would be easier for you to bear if just bones remained of you - and it would be easier to bear for him on his heart and mind.

You'd be free.

No Freedom, Without Love...

Scorching was the sun that morning as Ketil appraoched Thorfinn and Einar on his horse once again. Pater accompanied him with another in tow. Shackles of splinted wood around their swollen wrists. Their head hanging low.

"Thorfinn, Einar!" Ketil called out and began his usual prattling. His face bore that same, kind smile even when his words fell on some deaf ears. All Thorfinn could really focus on were lidded eyes slowly moving from the dirtied path up to him. Eyes that were drooped, limp, cold and familiar.

A shaky gasp. Air that got stuck in their lungs. Ketil halted in surprise as they stepped closer in hesitation, their bound hands rising and Pater yelling out about authority and respect of a property to follow.

All Thorfinn could hear were their breathless gasps, the darting eyes, hollow and in tears as their chafed hands gingerly cradled his face - as if unsure if he was really there.

Then, the shock turned into sorrow and anger.

"...You were supposed to be in Iceland..."

Pater yanked them away from him, the familiar warmth gone as they disorientate. Thorfinn could barely breath.

[dez78]

I need you, darling

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Blood (18+)

Additional Tags: Astarion being angry with you, Scared Astarion, Romanced Astarion, Boi is worried sick about you.

Summary: A battle goes to shit and Astarion is the first to notice.

(Not my gif)

As you were trekking the wilds with your companions, you stopped because something lurked ahead.

"Be careful, soldier." Karlach warned you. Your eyes were careful, tracing every shape in front you.

"Astarion, you smell anything?" Gale joked with a smirk, Astarion scoffed at him, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm not some type of blood hound!" He said offensively as he turned his nose up. Gale smirked as he waited patiently.

"The blood is average, so it's probably humans. Likely bandits or traders." Astarion replied after a silence.

You treaded carefully, watching the trees with your peripheral vision. Your companions at your back, watching every direction, weapons drawn.

Just then you heard the buzz of an arrow as it whizzed past your head, clipping your hair.

"Archers!" Gale cried, you and your companions took cover then.

"Bandits." Astarion scoffed.

You used your tactics to take out the archer, using your own crossbow. You pierced his throat with a bolt.

"Nice shot, soldier!" You heard Karlach complimenting you. You smirked cocky as you bolted out, a bandit surprised you and took a slash at you.

Your quick reflexes responded, you snapped your hips, the blade missing your most vital organs or so you thought. You were quick to cut his throat. He bled out, falling to the ground, grasping his throat.

Your companions charged out then, Astarion used his dual daggers to slice through the enemy, Karlach used her axe to crush her enemies, and Gale stood back blasting fire.

You used a dagger for the last bandit, throwing with precision and ending his life by getting him in the eye. You smiled victoriously.

Then you winced suddenly, you looked up just as Astarion turned around. The wind had shifted, and he picked up a sweet scent. Karlach and Gale approached.

You stumbled as you looked back down, despite being covered in bandit blood and the men on the ground, bleeding on the forest floor. Astarion knew your scent.

You looked down, your tunic starting to soak as fresh blood gushed from an open wound. You thought the blade missed, but it was apparent that in fact did not.

"Y/N!" Astarion rushed over to you.

"Oh shit, you're bleeding, soldier." Karlach noticed a few moments after Astarion.

"We need to get to camp." Gale suggested.

"I'm fine." You muttered, Astarion wasn't having it.

"You've done one dumb thing today already." He snarled as he picked you up. He carried you back to the camp. Gale and Karlach hot on his heels.

You faded in and out of consciousness, all you saw was Astarion. His face was washed with panic, dread, and concern.

"~Stay with me, my love.~" His voice sounded so far, yet he was right above you. Before it went black you heard the fear in Astarion's voice as he spoke,

"~Don't leave me. I need you, darling.~"

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

When you came to, you were at camp.

"She's awake!" Gale cried; the companions rushed over to you. Astarion hadn't left your side.

"What happened?" You asked groggily as you sat up, rubbing your throbbing head.

"You stupid, girl!" Astarion suddenly snapped at you, your heart twinged as you looked up with sorrowful eyes.

"You could have died, you idiot!" He was livid as he fumed. You winced from his raised voice, looking like a kicked puppy.

Astarion relaxed and took a deep breath,

"I'm sorry. I was just worried sick about you, I-" He pursed his lips, you looked at him, still hurt.

"I thought I lost you." He breathed out in a shallow breath. He bowed his head, on the verge of tears.

"Everything we been through, and I thought that was the last of you. As soon as I smelled your blood, I was full of dread, fearing the worst." Astarion explained. He took your hands in his.

"That was a stupid thing to do, but you're not stupid or an idiot. I just couldn't imagine the pain if I had lost you. I-" Astarion explained, he stopped again.

"I care about."

"I love you."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, he had never said those words before without it being some kind of joke. You looked into his eyes and saw the concern and sincerity. He meant it. He loves you.

"Please, for the love of the gods. Please, be more careful next time. I don't think my fragile heart can take that kind of pain again." Astarion pleaded with you, his eyes were genuine, and his voice was shaky. You nodded your head slowly as a smile crossed your lips.

"That's a good girl, darling." Astarion said softly as he leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss.

[pamgkrthwrites]

On a Lead

Summary: Bakugou insults you and the next time you see him is when the village is being raided.

Tags: Bakugou x reader, not beta read, Minecraft AU, emotion hurt/comfort, fluff, no quirks, pet names

A/N: Using my writing skills I got from my writing class to this. Should I be writing an assignment for that same class that's due tomorrow, yeah I should. But I did two assignments today so I think I deserved a little break.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Bakugou?” 

“Eh?! You scared or something, chicken little?”

You glared at the man as he brought out his flint and steel, He lit it at the obsidian stone, and soon a purple glow enlightened from the centre.

An eerie sound emitted from the portal, making your back shiver.

Bakugou brought out his diamond axe as he started walking forward towards you. You grabbed hold of his black skull shirt quickly, making him turn to you with a glare.

“What is it?” He growled at you.

“I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“Then don’t come with me!”

“Bakugou please!” You pulled at his shirt to make him turn to you. “I know you're the better adventure and fighter than me, but going into the nether is a bad idea!”

Bakugou pulled it away from you. “Don’t you want answers?! Don’t you want to know why we and others all just woke up in this world?!”

“Of course I want to know, Bakugou!” You shouted at him, feeling your bottom lip wobble. You were the lava bubbles echoing in the cave. “But… You could get hurt in there… You may not-”

“I’m not a weakling like you.” His voice rang coldly in your ear. “You and your friends are just farmers. If you guys are alright being in that rebuilt village and farming all your lives, go ahead. But I’m not like that.”

Bakugou’s harsh words made your arms feel like jelly, so when he pulled himself out of your grasp it easily left. He walked through the portal. He didn’t even look back at you as his body disappeared into the purple mist.

Your chest grew tight and your vision grew a bit blurry. You rubbed your eyes as you turned your back on the portal you helped Bakugou make and made your way back through the cave.

Bakugou and his friends were different from you and your friends. His friends travelled and adventured together, fighting monsters and exploring. While you and your friends rebuilt a village, farmed and mined. At most, you would have to fight raiders. Your group monster spawn protected the village and always went into the mines with a shield. 

Apparently, 700 people like you and Bakugou all one day woke up in the world you have been calling your home for a year. Yet none of you could remember your life before any of this.

Bakugou and his friends were part of a group of 60 people who went out adventuring to find answers. The reason of the 600 were split into three groups. The red stoners who made monster farms, the traders, and your group the farmers and miners. The remaining 40 were seen as elders by the groups.

Your group would gather the foods and minerals and then define them, making them into ores, blocks, food, etc. You would then trade those to the trader groups who then will trade with the red stones. The adventures also trade with the traders when they come around.

In other words, everyone interacts with the traders.

The 700 of you called yourself the U.A. Alliance. You and your friends aren’t aware of anyone else joining your world, so you’re not sure why the others decided this name was needed.

As you climbed out of the cave, your eyes landed on your purple-haired friend.

You attempted to smile at him. “Shinso, you waited for me?”

“Where's Bakugou?” Shinso asked you. “Did he say something mean to you?”

You stared at him before lowering your head and pouting your lower lip. “Yeah… He called me a weakling before entering a nether portal.”

Shinso scoffed, looking away from you. “He’s such a jackass.”

You bit the inside of your mouth before walking past him. “I don’t, maybe he’s right.”

Shinso looked at you, his face unreadable. “Don’t say that about yourself. He’s just an uncaring creature.”

There was a screech in the sky. You looked up and as soon as you saw them your eyes almost popped out of your head.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT SHINSO! HOW MANY PHANTOM DO YOU HAVE?!”

“Don’t worry about it.” He lightly chuckled as he brought out his iron sword. “I’m harvesting their membranes.”

You gave him a look before turning. “Alright, I’m going to bed. Good night, Shinso.”

Almost a week later, you were feeding your prized sheep, jeb_. Bakugou had yet to return from the nether and now some of his friends were asking you what had happened.

You were temped to go in yourself and look for him yourself out of guilt. Maybe you should’ve gone with him like planned. At least that way if he got hurt, he wouldn’t be alone.

Suddenly the village bell was ringing. You sat up straight and looked to the centre of the village. 

You saw many of the adventures quickly pull out their diamonds axes or swords and their shields all looking at something.

You quickly got up and ran out of the sheep barn to see a hoard of a raid coming in, your heart sinking.

You didn’t bring any of your weapons with you today.

You quickly ran to your hurt and pulled your iron sword from your chest and put in your iron chest plate and pants. You looked through out your chest and looked for your helmet but couldn’t find it in time.

“Shit.” You ran from your chest and started to sprint towards the fight.

A pillager turned towards you, glaring at you. He charged his crossbow and aimed it at you. You ditched out of the way as it fired at you before you hit your sword against said crossbow.

You then slashed your sword across his face which made him stumble back which gave you the opportunity to hit him two more times. He fell onto his back with a grunt before his body turned to dust. You noticed one shiny green emerald, quickly grabbing it before moving on to the next pillager in your line of sight.

You heard a horn ring out, indicating the second wave of raiders.

You panted, wiping off the sweat from your forehead as your stomach rumbled. You pulled out some bread from your pocket and quickly ate it. 

You bit the inside of your mouth as you saw two Vindicators step closer. Their blue eyes and grey skin always made this sick uneasy feeling form in your stomach.

You pushed that feeling away as you ran towards the Vindicator, hitting your sword against him. He brought out his axe and used it to shield your attack.

He pushed you off of him, making you grunt as your back his the ground. You couldn’t feel the sun on the skin so you quickly rolled to the side.

As your eyes opened, you saw his axe cut into the earth where you were just. You gulped, quickly getting up and hitting his arm with your sword as he tried to pull his axe from the ground. 

He yelled out in pain, quickly leaning on his axe so he could kick you off of him. You fell to the floor again and as you opened your eyes you were suddenly pulled back from a grip on your arm.

You gave out a yelp as you were chucked behind someone, that same someone pushing a TNT in a minecart. Once the Minecraft hit the Vindicator, you had to cover your ears from the loud explosion.

“OI!”

You looked up and saw a rather beaten down Bakugou, though his armour was no longer diamond blue but a darken grey.

“What wave is this?!” He asked.

“Second.” You quickly answered as you got up.

“Still using iron tools, chicken little?”

You glared at him. “You’ve been gone for 6 days.”

“I’ve already been chewed out by Kirishima, ‘aight?”

“Why you so dirty and burnt?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re done here.”

“Got it.”

Another horn rang through the air, singling the third wave.

And a Ravager was heard stomping before it was seen.

You bit the inside of your lip but Bakugou already ran towards it. You ran after him. You saw others fighting the Ravager as Bakugou approached. Bakugou pulled out his now black axe.

What the hell did he find in the nether?!

When Bakugou’s axe hit the beast, it let out a louder cry than what the diamond tools did to it. In fact, it seemed as though Bakugou’s upgraded tools seemed to have made it easier to defeat the beast.

The beast collapsed into dust, the horn ringing out for a longer time to indicate the raid was over.

Everyone sighed in relief, you sitting down on the grass. You looked up at the sky and saw the sun was ⅗ had been completed. 

You heard people walk away and start talking to each other, but you also heard someone approach you. Soon you saw Bakugou’s face looking down at you.

“Oi, why ain’t you wearing your helmet? You want to get brain damage?”

“Couldn’t find it.”

Bakugou offered you his hand, which is odd.

You gently took it and Bakugou helped you up.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence rang throughout your ears. You turned to Bakugou and tilted your head. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said I’m sorry.” He repeated himself. “I shouldn’t have called you a weakling. You’re actually strong and brave.”

You felt your cheeks warm up lightly. “Oh. Thank you Bakugou.”

“Katsuki is fine.” 

You felt your heart warmed. You wonder what happened in the nether for this to happen.

“So, why is your armour and axe now black?” You quickly asked as you tried to ignore the feeling growing in your chest.

Bakugou smirked. “You like it? It’s called netherite. I find it while I actually trying to sleep in the nether. Don’t do that. The beds explode.”

“Oh.” You gently took the axe from him and took a look at it. It definitely much stronger then diamond. 

Suddenly a helmet was on your head, making you look up and noticed Bakugou was putting his helmet on you.

“What are you-?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Bakugou butted in. “My armour is stronger than yours so you may as well wear it.”

Bakugou tightened the helmet onto your head to secure it. “Tighten enough?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“Good.”

Bakugou gently held your face, looking down at you. His eyes were surprisingly soft as he looked at you, his breathing even too. You noticed him leaning closer and your heart started to panic.

“You going to tell me why you so dirty?” You asked him.

Bakugou sighed as he rolled his head on his neck. “Well, the nether is hot and lava is everywhere. I couldn’t see the sky at anypoint. There are also these pig things walking around that would attack if I wasn’t wearing gold.”

You let out a laugh. “Gold? Isn’t it weak?”

“Yeah but it’s everywhere in there, though in much tinier pieces. There was also these fiery gold things. They dropped these things.”

Bakugou leaned to grab something from his back pocket and let you have a closer look. You felt grabbed it and took a look.

“They look like fire trapped in a golden rod.” You described.

“What do you think it is?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Looks like something you would have to give to one of those trader guys.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and made a vomiting sound. “Sounds lame.”

Bakugou took them take and put them back in his pocket. You took the chance to take a step back but Bakugou just followed your movements and stepped closer to you.

“I’m really sorry for what I said…” Bakugou’s cheeks were a light pink, making your heart jump a little. “I shouldn’t have called you a weakling.”

“... Thank you for apologising to me… Katsuki…” You replied.

Bakugou grabbed gently grabbed your face again and leaned in close.

“I was thinking…” Bakugou said gently. “While I was in the nether. Would you like to go travelling with me?”

Your heart beat fastened. “Travel with you?”

“Alone, just us two.”

Thump Thump.

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason to want to be with you?”

“... I just don’t understand.”

Bakugou called you by your name. “I want to be with you. I want you to be safe because of me. I don’t want those damn extras getting between us.”

Bakugou leaned closer until his and your lips were pressed together. 

You lightly leaned closer as the knots in your shoulders felt as if they were loosening up.

“Oh my god, Bkaugou is kissing her!” You heard a happy feminine voice.

Yours and Bakugou’s lips parted and you both turned, seeing Mina, Kirishima, Denki and Sero all open mouths smiling from shock.

You felt Bakugou’s grip on your arms tightening before he let go and stomped towards them and started shouting at them. You watched as your cheeks warmed hotter and hotter. 

Bakugou wanted you to travel with him, alone.

And he kissed you.

After apologising. 

Your face heated up. Not wanting to be embarrassed, you quickly turned and made your way back to the sheep barn. 

After all, you’d want jeb_ to come with you.

Bakugou called you by name as he stood at the door of your home. “Hurry up, chicken little!”

You open your door with a wide smile and your backpack on your back and your bundle around your waist. 

Bakugou gave you a look. “Why are you carrying so much?”

“My bundle has all my farming seeds, and I’m carrying all nine of my tools. Everything else is nine stacks of cobble, fifteen stacks of wood, and two stacks of saplings. I also have one lead for jeb_!”

“But why?”

“For making the house, dummy!” You pouted and puffed your cheeks up at him.

“I meant the lead. Why?”

You gasped at such a question.

“JEB_ IS MY BELOVED PRIZED SHEEP, KATSUKI!”

“IT CHANGES COLOUR!”

“THATS WHY IT’S PRIZED!”

You two started to bicker with each other, Kirishima and Mina watched on with awe.

“You think they’ve tamed him?” Kirishima asked Mina.

“I think so?” Mina asked while tilting her head. “I’m surpised Bakugou wants to settle down with someone.”

“I’m surprised it’s with a farmer. I was always under the impression it would be with one of us adventures.”

You made your way to the sheep barn while pulling out your lead. You gently sechued it around jeb_ before letting him out of his stable. Bakugou waited, tapping his finger agonist his bicep.

“You ready now, chicken little?”

“Why do you even call me that? I ain’t a chicken.”

“Your little and cute, like a chicken.”

“I am not little!” You pouted.

Bakugou laughed before rubbing the top of your head. “Sure sure. Anyway, let’s get going.”

[magnetictapedatastorage]

Millénaire is probably the single best minecraft mod out there. it's a complete overhaul of villages, replacing them with human-inhabited ones based on various real life cultures from ~1200 AD. instead of spawning and never changing, villagers will build more buildings, upgrade existing ones, harvest trees and crops, craft things from raw materials, trade with other villages as well as with the player... its kind of insane how deep it goes. if you sell the trader a stone axe, the woodcutter, a different villager, will start to use that stone axe instead of the wooden one he spawned with, increasing his speed.

[object-vault-9]

Tierlist !

Tierlist by request to mess with featuring all the characters so far ! I'll update it periodically If you do anything with it, feel free to show me! I'd love to see ! https://tiermaker.com/create/vault-9-characters-17278327 The icons are all really quick doodles don't look too closely at them /silly

Some notes: -Yellow background means Vault 9, Green is Vault 13, Beige is unknown background, Red is the Traders, Purple is Hush and Blue is the Paradise Foundation -Pineapple and Clipboard from 13 are done seperately from the parasitic entity itself. Unfortunately not much has been shown of those guys as people so far -It's Fire Axe's first living appearance ha ha

[amgracy]

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[noelle666]

WH40k Rogue Trader - Parqal idle animation

It seems Pasqal has some problems with his idle animation: as you can see, his head doesn't turn normally but changes position abruptly. And it happens only when he wields Mechanicus axes. I reported this problem, hope it will be fixed.

His idle animations without weapon and with other types of weapon are basically the same human characters have (Heinrix for example). When first weapon slot is empty (only plasma rifle is equipped) he acts as if there is no weapon.

@systembug please, enjoy!

[whencyclopedia]

African Slave Life in Colonial British America

African slave life in Colonial British America was far worse than slavery practiced in the Americas prior to the arrival of Europeans. The indigenous tribes took people as slaves in raids, enslaved those convicted of crimes, and traded slaves between tribes but the enslaved were thought to have done something to deserve their fate.

The racial, institutionalized slavery practiced by the English colonists of North America departed from this paradigm by enslaving people who had nothing whatsoever to do with the English, forcing them to work for the remainder of their lives as slaves, and claiming their children as property which could be sold.

The life of a slave in Colonial America differed from colony-to-colony but had one aspect in common: the slave had no rights as a human being and was considered property of the master just as a wagon, mill stone, or axe would be. The white master could, and usually did, treat the slave as just another possession to be used and then disposed of when it no longer functioned as expected.

Africans were often enslaved by those of other tribes and then sold to European slave traders or were kidnapped by Europeans directly. Frequently, those who enslaved fellow Africans found themselves drugged, manacled, and shipped with those they had brought to the slave market. Once arrived in North America, the slave would be worked, in the Southern Colonies at least, from dawn until dusk six days a week, living under the worst conditions, and subject to sale by their owners just as any rake, hoe, or hammer might be. Slave life in Colonial America continued according to this paradigm from c. 1660 until slavery was abolished by the 13th Amendment to the Constitution of the United States in 1865.

Virginia & the First Slaves

The first Africans in North America arrived in Jamestown, Virginia in 1619 aboard a Dutch ship that needed supplies. These 20 or 21 individuals were purchased for the necessary supplies by then-governor Yeardley (l. 1587-1627) who put them to work on his plantation. At this point, the English had no concept of racialized slavery and, in fact, slavery had been abolished in England centuries before, so these first Africans were treated as indentured servants, given a set term of service ending in freedom and reward of land. Scholar David A. Price comments:

Although it is tempting to assume that these first recorded Africans in English America were also the first slaves, there is evidence to suggest they were not. They may instead have had the legal position of indentured servants, like many of the white newcomers, eligible for freedom after completing a period of service. (197)

This paradigm changed in 1640 with the enslavement of an indentured black servant named John Punch. Punch left his master’s service before his time was up, claiming poor treatment, along with two white servants. When the three were caught and returned, the white servants were punished with four years added to their servitude, but Punch was sentenced to lifelong enslavement. After this event, Virginia began passing laws restricting the rights of the black population, instituting slave laws in the 1660’s, and becoming an active participant in the Transatlantic Slave Trade made possible by the Triangle Trade route.

Continue reading...

[thechillsquid]

Suina- ‘Swine of the Nether and Overworld’

Suina— Those of the pig or pig-like grouping

The swine of the Nether and overworld are some of the most curious species seen within minecraft severs, for while the overworld pig itself is often considered with little thought or interest, their lineage has found a notable root within the Nether dimension.

Thought to either derive from a shared ancestor with the modern overworld pig or to be direct descendants from overworld pigs, the Nether piglins and hoglins are a result of prehistoric Suina being transferred from the overworld into the harsh climate of the Nether dimension. Dimensional travel is known to have occurred several times in the past either to transfer varying civilizations across dimensions to traveling of varying species, etc., allowing for a great change in the affected species when they find an environment open for colonization and adaption.

However, the history of these species, particularly of the piglin are currently clouded in mystery, as even the piglin race itself seems to be struggling to reclaim not only a damaged culture, but a species that had been plagued by a deadly disease. When first encountered, most players knew of the piglins as ‘the pigmen’ particularly as the ‘zombie pigmen’ for that was of the limited showcasing seen of this race and species for some time.

Zombie pigmen (not showcased as they are simply piglin that have fallen victim to a ‘zombie’ infection like what can be observed in the overworld, though overworld zombies are a curious endeavor in themselves and shall be discussed in the future as well as their possible lead into the hypothesis of the lost civilizations of the past) were initially noted for being tuskless, blank eyed, and for the most part, harmless unless one of their groups were attacked.

They offered what was thought to be the only evidence of an extinct swine race with ancient fortress further solidifying this lost intelligence, however, this would be proven to be false when contact was made with unaffected piglin. These piglin seem to have been either in hiding or living within underground systems, though these exact settlements have been yet to be found by or shown to players.

Either way, piglins themsleves can showcase curious variance. Piglin are noted as follows; common, brutes, and proto.

Common piglin are the most often noted piglin after the society’s re-emergence to the Nether surface, tusk shapes and tusk sizes varying from differing families and areas, fur showcasing differing colors though most commonly ranging from dark maroons to pale pinks, and all having odd pale eyes. They hold a very guarded view of their hunting or roaming grounds though they will overlook those that wear gold or can be bribed for safe passage with gold ingots (which they will readily accept for trades of any knick-knacks they may be carrying with themsleves at the time of trade). Brute piglin are the second most common piglin groups and the most deadly of this group, though they are not another species or subtype and rather are an elite class of common piglin. They often train throughout childhood to best excel at direct fighting, using axes often as their choice of weapon, often differentiated from other more casual traders or hunters or explorers due to their specialized armor and noted eye-scars. All brutes, when they’ve finished their training as brutes, will be ceremonial marked with a blade over their left eye. Brutes will be commonly found guarding fortresses believed to be either sacred areas or remnants of their race’s ancient civilization (whichever it turns out to be, all that should be noted is these areas will be defended to the death and hoard notable treasure troves within their dark armored walls).

Finally there is the tuskless piglin, or the original ‘pigmen.’ They are one of the rarest variant and unlike the brute or common, they lack tusks and often have darker eyes than the pale gazes seen on other piglins. They however, are also one of the most peaceful, seeming to be almost outcasts as they will rarely wear gold themselves and tend to be found more isolated than others in their journeying. It is thought that they are some of the last ‘pure-blooded’ piglins left, the tusked variety actually being descended from those that had been infected with the deadly disease but instead of rotting away, seemed unaffected majorly. However, their pale eyes is what gives credit to this, for only those piglin infected have pale eyes and it seems as though while the ancient disease itself has either been overcome or became unable to further infect its hosts, remainders of the causer of this disease’s DNA remains through the generations, producing these pale eyes into the modern age as a byproduct of this ancient infection.

It’s unknown why the tuskless piglin and tusked piglin refuse to interact with one another, but it may have been due to some groups hiding away from anyone of their civilization that showcases even a possibilty of being infectious and when the groups re-emerged they had unintentionally changed so greatly from one another that cultural clashes and differences prevent effective remingling.

While I could go into the possible theories into what exactly this infection was (my personal theory involves the odd fungus seen within the Nether), I will save that tangent for another time and instead bring up the other curious species of swine in the Nether: the hoglin.

Hoglin, unlike piglin, are not so much a sentient race but rather feared predators that came back around the re-emergence of the piglins. The two races have a great rivalry between them and will readily hunt the other (though young of both species will intermingle and have been seen playing with one another until encountering one of the parties pissed off parents).

Hoglins themselves rely heavily on scent and hearing for they are nearly completely blind (though it is doubted that this is because of the ancient disease that killed off a majority of the piglin race and rather a result of increased use of scent and hearing and the eyes being practically useless with heavy smoke and sulfur in the air), ramming anything they believe to be food with their massive and muscular heads to gorge them on its sharp, forward curving tusks.

They are incredible deadly and territorial and it is often a mass celebration by piglins when witnessing the death of one of these creatures. Notable elsewise is that unlike the bipedal piglin, the hoglin remains quadpedal like its kin, the overworld pig. They however have very large and spread out feet rather than the more precise footing of the overworld pig, as they travel far distances to find food and often travel harsh distances across rough terrain.

Overall, Suina are a facsianting example of how easily organisms will thrive when given an opportunity. Possibly their ancestors came from the overworld following hexapod migrations into these areas, or perhaps they were leftovers from traveling past civilizations that spawned their own development and societies.

Perhaps the fortresses and strongholds noted today aren’t even of piglin construction and could infact be evidence of the lost civilizations that fled the overworld so many millennia ago, either way, the more we look into these races and species, the more opportunity we have to learn about the past of these varying dimensions.

[fatehbaz]

[T]he modern environmental history of sandalwood (a widely-accepted 16 species of fragrant trees within the genus Santalum including the species Santalum album [...]) [...] [is] a history defined by anthropogenic impact endangering the genus across its range. [...] Selling at about $147,000 per metric ton, the aromatic heartwood of Indian sandalwood (S. album) is [among] [...] the most expensive wood in the world. Globally, 90 per cent of the world’s S. album comes from India [...]. [T]he species came to the brink of extinction [...]. [I]t is not until 1974 that supply of the most valuable species of sandalwood was depleted in the major sandal-bearing region of India. [...] Part of the difference, then, lies in each region’s history of governance and relationship to the market.

Islands [in the Pacific] abruptly brought into the modern world system were quickly overexploited, whereas areas such as southern India [...], which had [...] been centres of world sandalwood trade since at least the eleventh century, managed to negotiate the pressures of the European trading companies and forest bureaucracies in the nineteenth century. [...] In contrast [...], much of the Pacific was introduced to the international market by sandalwood traders who moved from one island to the next harvesting the tree until there was no more left to harvest. India and Timor had been the sole suppliers of sandalwood to the world market until the late eighteenth century.

While there had long been a world market for S. album, at the end of the eighteenth century European, American and Australian merchants tried to take control of the sandalwood trade by selling newly discovered Pacific species of sandalwood to China. By the mid-nineteenth century these sandalwood traders had systematically stripped most of the Pacific islands of this precious tree. Time and again sandalwood species were exploited until they went locally extinct, or nearly so, often with massive ecological damage, not to mention the political and cultural toll on the islands.

In Hawaii, also known as Tahn Heung Sahn or ‘the Sandalwood Mountains’ to [some of] the Chinese, the sandalwood trade collapsed by 1828, only decades after it began.

The first shipwrecked Europeans to land on Fiji’s second largest island, Vanua Levu, also called it Sandalwood Island. The sandalwood trade collapsed there within 20 years of its discovery and inauguration.

In the Marquesas, the British and Americans decimated sandalwood in just three years, between 1814 and 1816.

A similar story can be told in the case of S. austrocaledonicum of Vanuatu.

---

All text above by: Ezra Rashkow. "Perfumed the axe that laid it low: The endangerment of sandalwood in southern India." Indian Economic and Social History Review 51, no. 1, pages 41-70. March 2014. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]