#Coal Bank Pass

[dopescissorscashwagon]

May this image of the cliffs at Coal Bank Pass letting off some steam inspire your weekend activities.

By Jason Coward

📆 Oct 3, 2023

📷 1/1250 s at f/9, ISO 450, 122mm

📸 Nikon Z5, VR 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6G

[willydynomite]

Hiking coal bank pass 😊

[whencyclopedia]

Child Labour in the British Industrial Revolution

Children were widely used as labour in factories, mines, and agriculture during the British Industrial Revolution (1760-1840). Very often working the same 12-hour shifts that adults did, children as young as five years old were paid a pittance to climb under dangerous weaving machines, move coal through narrow mine shafts, and work in agricultural gangs.

It was very often the case that children's jobs were well-defined and specific to them, in other words, child labour was not merely an extra help for the adult workforce. The education of many children was replaced by a working day, a choice often made by parents to supplement a meagre family income. It was not until the 1820s that governments began to pass laws that restricted working hours and business owners were compelled to provide safer working conditions for everyone, men, women, and children. Even then a lack of inspectors meant many abuses still went on, a situation noted and publicised by charities, philanthropists, and authors with a social conscience like Charles Dickens (1812-1870).

A Lack of Education

As sending a child to school involved paying a fee – even the cheapest asked for a penny a day – most parents did not bother. Villages often had a small school, where each pupil's parents paid the teacher, but attendance was sometimes erratic and more often than not the education rudimentary in hopelessly overcrowded classes. There were some free schools run by charities, and churches often offered Sunday school. Not until 1844 were there more free schools available, such as the Ragged schools established by Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury (1801-1885). These schools concentrated on the basics, what became known as the 3 Rs of Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic. Compulsory education for 5 to 12-year-olds, and the institutions necessary to provide it, would not come along until the 1870s. Consequently, "at least half of nominally school-age children worked full-time during the industrial revolution" (Horn, 57).

Some factory owners were more generous than others to the children in their employ. An example is the Quarry Bank Mill in Styal in the county of Cheshire. Here the owner provided schooling after the long working day was over for 100 of its child workers in a dedicated building, the Apprentice House.

An indicator of better education, despite all the difficulties, is literacy rates, rather imperfectly measured by historians by recording the ability of a person to sign one's name on official documents such as marriage certificates. There was a great improvement in literacy, but by 1800, still only half of the adult population could sign their name to such documents.

For those children who could find work in the Industrial Revolution, and there were employers queueing up to offer it, there were no trade unions to protect them. For the vast majority of children, working life started at an early age – on average at 8 years old – but as nobody really cared about age, this could vary wildly. Working involved at best tedium and at worst an endless round of threats, fines, corporal punishment, and instant dismissal at any protest to such treatment. In one survey taken in 1833, it was found that the tactics used with child labourers were 95% negative. Instant dismissal accounted for 58%. In only 4% of cases was a reward given for good work, and a mere 1% of the strategies used involved a promotion or pay rise.

Continue reading...

[literaryvein-reblogs]

The Lady of Shalott is a painting of 1888 by the English painter John William Waterhouse. It is a representation of the ending of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 1832 poem of the same name.

The Lady of Shalott (1832) By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Part I

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel, singing clearly, O'er the stream of Camelot. Piling the sheaves in furrows airy, Beneath the moon, the reaper weary Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy, Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd With roses: by the marge unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken sail'd, Skimming down to Camelot. A pearl garland winds her head: She leaneth on a velvet bed, Full royally apparelled, The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play: A charmed web she weaves alway. A curse is on her, if she stay Her weaving, either night or day, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be; Therefore she weaveth steadily, Therefore no other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear. Over the water, running near, The sheepbell tinkles in her ear. Before her hangs a mirror clear, Reflecting tower'd Camelot. And as the mazy web she whirls, She sees the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot: And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, came from Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead Came two young lovers lately wed; 'I am half sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flam'd upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down from Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down from Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down from Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom She made three paces thro' the room She saw the water-flower bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; 'The curse is come upon me,' cried The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Outside the isle a shallow boat Beneath a willow lay afloat, Below the carven stern she wrote, The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, All raimented in snowy white That loosely flew (her zone in sight Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright) Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot, Though the squally east-wind keenly Blew, with folded arms serenely By the water stood the queenly Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance— Like some bold seer in a trance, Beholding all his own mischance, Mute, with a glassy countenance— She look'd down to Camelot. It was the closing of the day: She loos'd the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam, By creeks and outfalls far from home, Rising and dropping with the foam, From dying swans wild warblings come, Blown shoreward; so to Camelot Still as the boathead wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her chanting her deathsong, The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy, She chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her eyes were darken'd wholly, And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot: For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, By garden wall and gallery, A pale, pale corpse she floated by, Deadcold, between the houses high, Dead into tower'd Camelot. Knight and burgher, lord and dame, To the planked wharfage came: Below the stern they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest, Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest. There lay a parchment on her breast, That puzzled more than all the rest, The wellfed wits at Camelot. 'The web was woven curiously, The charm is broken utterly, Draw near and fear not,—this is I, The Lady of Shalott.'

[dearharriet]

could I request the tangled prompt for george, please? 😚

and congratulations on 150!!! 🎉

here u are lovely, thank you sm!! (wc: 870)

George is not used to this whole heart in his chest thing, and it’s really dragging down his name as an enemy of the crown.

I mean, sure, that’s not something he can just put away—and the palace guards certainly won’t—but he almost wishes he could. Which is stupid, obviously George loves being a criminal—who doesn’t?

But the thing is, you’re kind of more than he’d been expecting. George thought you were naive, and jumpier than a field mouse, and you are, but you’re also kind when you want to be, and similarly cutthroat when necessary. You’re not half bad.

Like now, in the square, you’re helping an older group of women with their knitting patterns. George had ordered you to lay low, but he realizes now how foolish that is. It doesn’t matter how low you lay, everyone would be looking at you anyways. You’re just magnetic that way.

Leaving the chittering group, you pass over the wide open square, eyes on a shady alcove at the other end. George ducks further into the overhang, skirting around columns to meet you there.

Even if you’re not seeking him out, he’s glad you’re getting some shade. The mid-year sun is penetrating every thick stone building in the kingdom, and turning the ground into a coal walk for your bare feet.

And anyways, when the sun and you meet head-on, it’s a spectacle that’s hard to look at.

Rounding the corner, George stops short, realizing you’re not as alone as he thought.

You’re crouched, hair fanning over your shoulders, speaking with a small boy who looks very unfortunate. There’s dirt covering his face, and his feet are similar to yours in that they’re unprotected. He can’t be more than ten, but instead of playing in the sun like most children, he’s slumped against the wall, looking tired.

George’s newfound heart thumps a little, shocking his system. He steps forward, but then you’re standing, pulling the boy up with you.

Weaving through carts and wagons, you lead the boy into the center of the square, and then skitter away to a quartet of musicians.

The little boy looks like he’s treading open water, spinning in the wake of your attention. When you come back, you take his shaking hands into yours as a song begins to play.

Then you’re dancing.

With the height difference it’s nothing more than a flailing spin, but with every rotation both your face and the boy’s light with joy.

Two couples join in, and George ventures out of his hiding spot to get a better view. As he passes vendors and shoppers, he notices them uprooting themselves, pushing toward you the way he is.

Many of them join, and when George is on the bank of the whirling circle of townspeople he can’t see you anymore. The dance has quickly evolved into a more complex braid of partners, one that everyone but him seems to understand.

A part of him worries that you were taken, but a flash of gold cuts through the mesh of feet, and his shoulders settle.

The partners change fast, so one second your elbows are linked with an older man, and the next you’re swinging into a young girl. It goes this way down the chain, changing all at once like a flower that blooms new every minute, and you keep your eyes on George the whole time.

When you reach him, you stick one hand out and yank him into the fray.

George stumbles and then catches himself on a stranger who kindly guides him into the proper spin. Luckily, he’d been watching long enough to know when to switch, pinging from one partner to the next as bystanders clap to the beat.

When he’s rounded the full circle, the music changes, and everyone finds a new direction.

Though he probably wouldn’t admit it out loud, George understands why you and the boy had looked so happy. As he swings through smithys and students and artists, touching each hand briefly in this hurdling dance, he’s undeniably alive.

He thought that stealing the crown was the fastest his heart would ever beat, but he might have been wrong. Running away was easy, but coming back? Near impossible.

Without him even realizing, George is finally dancing with you. It felt like every time he’d completed the circle and come to you, the music had changed and you’d miss each other.

But now, you’re under his hands, and when the music changes, you tighten yours around his. The chain breaks, and no one seems to mind. George suspects it was all your making anyways, so this time is no different.

Around and around you spin under the summer sun, and George tugs you closer, his feet doing the work for both of you. He doesn’t have to think, he just turns and turns and lifts you, revels in your delighted laugh. He shocks himself with his returning laugh—not snide nor attractive, but truly overjoyed.

When you land on your feet, the music comes to an end, and George and you are still laughing. Both of your chests meet with each huff, swelling with air and pride.

George knows it’s not about the crown anymore.

+

thank you for reading xx

masterlist

join the celebration!

[shinobicyrus]

Hey, yanno how Climate Change is a real thing that is tangibly, at this moment, affecting our world?

Well it turns out, the wealthy and their investment firms have been seeing the mounting evidence that oil companies have had for decades and are slowly starting to think more long-term about their portfolios in the face of rising sea levels, more extreme weather, and the myriad of ways climate crises are affecting...well. Everything. Maybe this means they invest more into sustainability, green energy, building more resilient infrastructure, or carbon offsets. Some of it, of course, is simple corporate greenwashing, but there are those that are taking this trend and packaging it into something called ESG (Environmental, Social, and corporate Governance).

Now some people would say this is predictable, even sensible. Just the good ol’ Free Market(tm) rationally responding to market forces and a changing world.

But those people would be fools! Insidious fools! For conservative sorcerers have come out with a new cursed phrase to explain this new market trend: Woke Investing.

What makes this investing “woke?” Well, much like how conservatives normally flounder when trying to define a word they stole from black people, “Woke Investing” essentially just means any kind of capital investment that they, the fossil fuel billionaire class and their sycophants, don’t personally profit from.

One of these aforementioned sycophants is Andy Puzder, conservative commentator, fellow at The Heritage Foundation, and former fast-food CEO. He calls this kind of so-called woke investing “socialism in sheep’s clothing,” further explaining in leaked audio of a closed-door meeting:

“My father's generation's challenge was the Nazis, who, by the way, were, of course, very proud socialists[citation fucking needed]. The challenge of my generation was the communists, who were, of course, very committed socialists. The challenge of your generation is ESG investing, and it's more insidious than communism or the Nazis.”(source)

You heard it here first, folks. Not investing as much in fossil fuels is more insidious than the Third Fucking Reich.

As usual, the Heritage Foundation is putting their petro-chemical donor’s money where their mouth is. Bills are being proposed to blacklist banks that don’t invest in key state industries, such as West Virginia coal or Texas oil. Fourteen states have already passed bills to restrict ESG-type investing, with Florida Governor Ron “Bullies Kids for Wearing Masks” Desantis leading the charge.

In other words, Climate Denial has reached such a point that so-called Free Market Conservatives who claim to hate big government are trying to make it illegal for banks, investment firms, and financial institutions to make any financial decisions that acknowledges Climate Change is real.

[whumpetywhump]

Till The End Of The Moon

Tantai Jin/Ming Yue

01:

– Flashback: Hit in the face with a rock, bleeding, beaten up

– Flashback: Clutching his head, collapses and passes out

– Forced to kneel in the snow, pale and weak

02:

– Still kneeling in the snow, shivering, collapses and passes out, bundled in blankets, carried to a bath, revealed to have bruises on his arms from past abuse

– Conditioned to expect daily beatings, whipped across the back, bleeding

– Feverish, unresponsive, trembling in his sleep, spoon-fed medication

– Forced to work for his food, degraded, spat on

– Flashback: Forced to eat off the floor, drugged with an aphrodisiac, coerced into sex, forced to marry her

03:

– Kidnapped by a demon, drugged with magical smoke, collapses and passes out

04:

– Forced to watch his mother die and his father reject him in a dream

– Still held captive from last episode, tied to a tree, knocked out with magic

– Flashback: Beaten up, face scraped and bruised, has his wounds cleaned for him

– Flashback: Beaten up again, face cut and bruised, cleaning his own wounds

– Rescued from the tree, still unconscious, cradled

– Nightmare: Faced with his mother's corpse, collapses to his knees, stabbed in the chest by his father, abandoned by his loved ones, begging for help, crying, manipulated into trying to slit his own throat

– Wakes from the nightmare with a cut on his neck

– Struck in the chest with a spell, overloaded with magic, screaming in pain, overuses his newfound power, spitting blood, collapses and passes out, wakes up in bed, gasping and clutching his chest, neck bandaged

05:

– Neck still bandaged from last episode

06:

– Tied up overnight so his wife can use him as a pillow

– Flashback: Runs out of power, dizzy, clutching his head

07:

– Stabbed in the throat with a demon's claws, bleeding

– Flashback: In pain from resisting an aphrodisiac, clutching his chest

08:

– Taken hostage with a ligature round his throat

– Cuts his hand while catching an arrow, shot in the eye with a dart, bleeding, staggering, spitting blood, collapses to his knees, learns he was poisoned, needs help to stand

– Captured, forced to his knees, restrained, almost has his face burned with hot coals, overuses his power and activates the poison, spitting blood, cuts his own throat to perform bloodletting, jumps into the sea to escape

09:

– Found unconscious on the bank after last episode, given CPR, coughing up water, cradled, needs help to walk, still bleeding from his hand

– Tied up, realises he's blind in one eye after last episode

– Still suffering the effects of the poison from last episode, spitting blood, needs help to walk, clutching his chest in pain, collapses, bleeding from the mouth again

– Hit with a spell while shielding his wife, spitting blood

– Overuses his power, clutching his chest, collapses to his knees, spitting more blood, uses more power to heal his wife, passes out, found unconscious on the ground, carried to safety

12:

– Stabbed in the chest, spitting blood, passes out, found unconscious on the ground, carried to safety, cradled, magic fails to heal him, spitting more blood, healed with a crystal, wakes up in bed, wincing in pain

13:

– Cuts his finger on his sword

14:

– Forced to divorce his wife, depressed, drinking excessively, sedated with a spell that also prevents him from speaking, dubiously consensual s*x

– Struck in the chest with a spell during battle, bleeding from the mouth, grabbed by the throat, thrown into a wall, clutching his chest

15:

– Forced to watch his friends die, crying

– Stabbed in the gut, spitting blood, screaming in pain, passes out, thrown from a cliff, face scraped from the fall, floating unconscious underwater, returns to his original form (tiny dragon), rescued, taken care of

– Unconscious in bed after returning to human form, face and arms scraped, wakes up blind, holding his chest and coughing, has his eyes bandaged

16:

– Eyes still bandaged from last episode

– Overuses his power, wincing in pain

17:

– Slashed across the arm with a sword

– Overuses his power, clutching his chest

– Stabbed in the chest by his wife

– Pale, weak and stumbling after using up more of his power, knocked out with a spell, left unconscious on the ground

18:

– Walks towards a sword until it stabs him in the chest, bleeding, spitting blood, struck by lightning while shielding his wife, spitting more blood

20:

– Injured in magic fight, holding his chest in pain

21:

– Witnesses his mother's remains being destroyed, crying, stabbed in the chest by the woman who raised him

– Severe chest pain, collapses, briefly passed out, realises the sword that stabbed him was cursed, applying medication to the wound, gasping in pain

22:

– Still injured from last episode, unconscious and feverish in bed, taken care of

– Nightmare, flinches awake

25:

– Betrayed, in a state of shock, unsteady on his feet, cuts his hands while going on a destructive rampage, bleeding, collapses, screaming

26:

– Restrained with magic, stabbed in the chest with multiple magical blades by his wife, spitting blood, crying, stabbed again, screaming in pain, spitting more blood, struggling to stand, collapses, passes out

– Recovering in bed, needs help to sit up, clutching his chest, spitting blood, given three years to live

– Overexerts himself, stumbling, clutching his head and chest, tries to use his magic, spitting blood

– Refusing to see a doctor, crying out in pain, clutching his chest, spitting blood

27:

– Connects his spirit to his wife’s to heal her, spitting blood, needs help to stand, dizzy

– Affected by his wife’s actions through their connection, clutching his chest, falls from his bed, spitting blood, screaming in pain

– Experiencing frequent episodes of chest pain

– Tries to use his power, chest pain, spitting blood, continues overusing his power and bleeding from the mouth

28:

– Struck by magical lightning while shielding his wife, spitting blood, overuses his power trying to shield her further, spitting more blood, shouting in pain, struck by lightning again, learns the truth of his identity, crying, shielding his wife from more lightning, more blood spitting

– Has the evil power ripped out of him, screaming in agony, repeatedly spitting blood

– Struck by multiple magical lightning bolts, screaming in pain

– Grieving, crying, passes out next to the body, unconscious in bed, cradled, spoon-fed medication

– Dream: Weak and unsteady on his feet, hallucinating, staggering, collapses to his knees, spitting blood

– Wakes from a nightmare in a panic, coughing and spluttering, falls from his bed, bleeding from his mouth, sobbing

– Seals himself in a block of ice with his wife’s body, unconscious, rescued

– Punched in the face and gut, knocked to the ground, beaten up in a fistfight, bleeding from the mouth

– Struck in the back with a spell while shielding his wife's body

29:

– Spitting blood after the attack from last episode

– Grieving, crying, clutching his head, screaming

– Attempts suicide by setting fire to his room, rescued, struggling, trying to re-enter the fire

– Cuts his own hand for a ritual, bleeding

– Burns his hands in a magical river, hallucinating, wading through poisoned water, collapses to his knees, spitting blood, struggling to stand, repeatedly stumbles and falls, passes out underwater

30:

– Still unconscious underwater from last episode, hands cut and burned, infected with dark magic, screaming in pain

– Wakes up 500 years later, clutching his chest, crying out in pain, pale and weak, struck in the leg to prevent him from leaving, falls to his knees, briefly paralysed with a spell, healed with magic

32:

– Struck in the chest with a spell, spitting blood

– Infected with demonic energy, spitting blood, resisting, screaming in pain, collapses to his knees, stabilised with magic, passes out in his girl’s arms

– Suffering the effects of demonic energy, migraine, chest pain

33:

– Still experiencing chest pain from last episode

– Flashback: Unconscious underwater from a previous episode, overloaded with magic, screaming in pain, found unconscious on a beach

34:

– Gives in to the demonic energy, spitting blood, collapses to his knees, attacked with more demonic energy, crying out in pain, rescued, struck with a spell, thrown into a wall, passes out

– Falsely accused of murder, chained between two pillars, repeatedly struck by magical lightning, spitting blood, hit with two spells, gasping in pain, spitting more blood

– Loses control of the demonic energy, resisting, struck in the chest, thrown against a pillar, restrained with magic, screaming in pain

35:

– Still restrained and screaming from last episode, convulsing, admits to crimes he didn’t commit to save his girl, crying, has the demonic energy ripped out of him, screaming, collapses and passes out

– Chained to the pillars again, continuously tortured with magic, screaming, rescued

– Has the scars on his chest exposed

36:

– Kidnapped, disorientated, dizzy, stumbling, clutching his head

– Chest pain, wincing

– Wakes up in chains, coughing up blood, chest pain, repeatedly wrenched backwards by his chains

37:

– Still chained up and suffering pain in his chest

– Rips his own power out, screaming in pain, collapses and passes out

– Cut across the shoulder with a magical wire, bleeding

– Thrown into a ravine, face cut and scraped, spitting blood, clutching his leg, crawling across the ground, limping, struck in the chest with magical lightning, spitting more blood, collapses to his knees

38:

– Absorbs too much demonic energy, screaming in pain

– Flashback: Face scraped and bloodied from the last episode, struck with a meteor-type weapon, wakes up in bed, put back to sleep with magic

39:

– Loses control of the demonic energy and almost kills his girl, resisting, crying out in pain

– Overwhelmed by demonic energy, collapses to his knees, spitting blood, staggering, clutching his head, crying, screaming in pain

40:

– Stabbed in the gut

– Destroys his own demonic energy, missing and presumed dead

Xiao Lin/Sang You

01:

– Future: Stabbed in the chest, spitting blood, throws himself off a cliff, presumed dead

16:

– Struck in the chest, thrown to the ground, spitting blood, restrained with magic, captured

17:

– Found unconscious and bloody at the bottom of a ravine after being thrown in, cradled, protected, rescued

20:

– Struck in the chest with a spell, spitting blood, pale and weak

– Forced to separate from his wife, crying, stumbling, wincing in pain

21:

– Still pale and weak from last episode

23:

– Forced to his knees, captured, silenced with magic, forced to listen to his wife’s betrayal, crying

24:

– Still crying and unable to speak

– Locked in a cell, expressing suicidal ideation

25:

– Stabbed in the gut, collapses to his knees, spitting blood, needs help to stand

– Recovering in bed with the blade still in his gut, told it was poisoned, cuts it out himself, bleeding out, spitting more blood

– Hides his injury, falls from his horse, unable to walk without support, collapses, spitting blood, dies

31:

– Reincarnated 500 years later

33:

– Hypnotised, tied up with a whip, has some of his energy sucked out, escapes, vomiting blood

34:

– Wakes up in bed with his torso bandaged after last episode, has medication applied to a wound on his chest

35:

– Learns about his death in his past life, crying

38:

– Struck with a spell, spitting blood

40:

– Overloaded with demonic energy, twitching, convulsing, has the energy extracted, passes out, collapses into his enemy’s arms, dropped from thousands of feet above ground, caught by his girl

Ye Qing Yu

07:

– Slapped in the face twice

– Flashback: Unconscious and bloody on the battlefield, covered in wounds, healed with magic

– Knocked out with magic while shielding someone

19:

– Hit in the face with a glass by his father, bleeding from the forehead, disowned

23:

– Stabbed in the chest and smacked in the face by his girlfriend

27:

– Stabbed in the chest while shielding his girlfriend, spitting blood, collapses into her arms, dies, resurrected with magic

28:

– Pale and weak from last episode

– Beaten up in a fistfight, bruised face, bloody lip

29:

– Face still bruised and bleeding from last episode

– Grieving, crying

40:

– Overuses his power while protecting his city, spitting blood, stumbling, has to be held up

Nian Bai Yu

08:

– Knocked out with magic

– Captured, forced to his knees, restrained

09:

– Still held captive, tied up

29:

– Struck in the chest with a spell, thrown to the ground, spitting blood, passes out

33:

– Captured, face bruised after being beaten

37:

– Cut across the throat with a wire, struck in the chest with a spell, spitting blood, tied up, rescued, collapses to his knees, needs help to stand

– Struck in the chest, thrown into a ravine

39:

– Wakes up in bed after the fall, face bruised 

TW: Contains themes of child abuse, domestic abuse, noncon and suicide

[hazel-of-sodor]

Presenting the revamp of my British Railways 9F.

92203 Black Prince is preserved (irl) on the North Norfolk Railway .

92220 Evening Star is preserved (irl) in the National Collection, she was already selected for preservation when built, as she was the last steam engine built for BR.

92000 Crewe Works is preserved at the Sodor Railway Musuem as the class prototype.

92162 is preserved on the Coleford Preservation Railway after a stint working for the National Coal Board (who donated her to the railway)

92079 Brianna was purchased by the NWR, for Banking at Wellsworth due to her experience/time working on the Lickey Incline.

92210 was purchased by Caledonian Preservation Railway in 1964. While the line was focused on Caledonian locomotives and rolling stock, 92210 was only 5.25 years old when withdrawn, and the line couldn't pass up the opportunity of a basically new locomotive. She was painted in Caledonian Blue to help her blend in with the rest of the fleet, and has remained as such ever since.

92001 Murdoch is the second built 9F and was was delivered directly to the North Western Region (Railway) where she has remained ever since. When adpated for a childrens tv series in 2003, the Show portrayed her as male, much to her ire.

92167 Vulcan was one of the last two 9Fs in service, and quite famously broke a rod, forcing her to finish her service as a 2-8-2. She was purchased by the London New Eastern Railway directly from BR, and repaired.

92160 Hephaestus was the other of the last two 9Fs in service, and was run directly onto Chester and Holyhead Railway's lines and ownership at the end of the day.

92250 Tamerlane was the last steam engine built at Crewe Locomotive Works as was bought direct from British Railway by The Rose Line preservation society.

92187 Paddington Station, the first Swindon built 9F, is preserved on the Kingsbridge Branchline Railway.

92170 Brighton Belle ia preserved on the Spa Valley Railway.

92169 Minerva, one of the first withdrawn, was purchased by the London New Eastern Railway

C92 (formerly 92137) was handed over to the Denbigh and Wrexham Railway upon their seperation from British Railways.

[weixuldo]

Allow me// ch 13

Vader x Reader

a/n: so this one is kinda short but is necessary for the plot!! we’ll have some vader and reader interactions in the next chapter!!! :) ty for the support!!!

Vader has been gone longer than anticipated…

warnings: cursing, angst, harm, body horror?, cannon typical violence

_____________________

You walked down the brightly lit corridor with a small transport droid behind you; it carried your tool bag and some parts that had to be specially ordered to fix one of the hyper speed engines. 

Once you reached your destination you swiped your security badge and the deep belly of the ship opened its maw to you. The machinery and technology that allowed the vessel to operate was all at the tip of your fingers. 

You had always wanted to come down here and surprisingly you hadn’t ever had a reason to, but before Vader left to meet with his master he noticed the engines had been running at lower parsecs than usual and asked you to take a look. 

The Executor had been docked on Hoth so that you could inspect and repair the engines (otherwise you would be vaporized if you attempted to inspect them while they ran).

You had actually never been to the icy planet and were excited to see a few sights before going back into space. Vader told you that he would take you on a stroll when he got back- he knew how much you loved exploring new systems and biomes (a conversation of one of your many late night talks). 

Hopefully the meeting between Vader and the Emperor went well and you could debrief with V later today.

Earlier you had seen Palpatine’s ship go off to another system, so that seemed to be a good sign.

Though, you hadn’t heard from Vader yet- but it was common for you not to hear from him until later in the day- especially when you had a demanding task; so you didn’t think much of it.

___________________________

Vader’s mind was consumed with painful memories and the anguish his body was currently feeling as he laid on the burning shores of Mustafar.

His prosthetic ports ached and the flames licking at the metal didn't help the surviving skin that surrounded them. 

Half of him was just ready to give up- He had been in this same position before and chose to cling onto life, but what did that life provide him?

Days of pain and suffering in a suit that would be his coffin, mental anguish over the decisions he had made, manipulation from the man he was supposed to be working with… all he was here for was being a weapon of the empire. He didn’t matter. 

All of this re-lived pain because he aided his dead wife’s handmaiden (who knew that he was Anakin and told him Padme’s last words were ”there’s still good in him”).

He didn’t know if there was still good in him- if everytime he attempted to prove his wife’s last words true, he got punished; how would he go on trying to be good?

But on the other hand; why live if there was no good in him- why bring more suffering into the galaxy? 

In his moment of thought the bank of the river started sliding and he felt the heat intensifying by his legs. In defeat he closed his eyes; what else was there to live for?

The last time he was here, Padme was what kept him going. At the time he thought she was still alive and he needed her. He stayed alive for her, he dragged his mutilated body across the burning coals to get back to her. 

He remembered the pain he felt when he found out she had passed… he would not survive news like that again…

In that instance a burst of color flooded the nothingness of his closed eyes; beautiful greens, blues, and purples.

Soon the colors started forming images, images of you. Your smile, your hair, the adorable look on your face when you finished a big project, the look you gave him before falling asleep curled up to his side. 

You. 

He needed to get back to you.

In his panicked state he pushed you far from his mind; never would he want to associate suffering with you. But now he understood, you were his motivation.

His pillar of light, his guiding hand.

His eyes shot open when realized that was a double edged sword; yes, you were his reason to live, but he also knew that his master loved to manipulate him… and he would spare no soul who would give him more power. 

And now Vader wasn’t there to protect you.

As he slipped further down and the flames began to lick at his already burnt skin, his eyes widened and he gripped the gravely bank with all of his might. He was going to come home to you. 

He needed to get back, he needed to make sure Palpatine didn’t do anything drastic (the emperor already intervened in his previous relationship and he would not let that happen again). 

His desperation and worry soon became anger and pure rage- the thought of Palpatine laying a hand on you made Vader livid. 

After he made his grueling crawl up the scolding shores he wasn’t even thinking about his recovery time and procedures he would need done once he got back; all he could think about was making sure you were safe. 

_________________________________

You usually at least saw Vader once a day, even if for only a short period of time, so you were rightfully anxious when you hadn’t seen him in almost 48 hours.

No matter how much you tried to ignore it you couldn't help but worry about him; the other night he told you he had to meet his master, most likely under unfavorable circumstances…

Would the emperor have done something to him? He couldn’t have, Vader was his strongest, right?

Plus Palpatine left the other day…

Your brows knit together as you tried to fall asleep; why were you so worried?

Vader was a grown man who was more than capable of taking care of himself. You just needed to stop being “worst-case scenario”-

Wait. 

You sucked in a sharp breath when you realized that you couldn’t sense Vader’s force signature; the more you thought about it, you hadn’t felt it this whole time- you were too wrapped up in your work to notice. 

But, again… He was perfectly equipped to handle himself…yeah- no need to worry. 

No need.

…

…..

…….

As much as you wanted to believe what you were telling yourself, your gut told you something was wrong. And you’d be damned if you were just going to sit here and let that worry fester. 

You knew the Emperor was scheduled to come back aboard tomorrow morning to oversee a transport. You could act dumb and attempt to coax information out of him; It was definitely a lofty and irrational idea, but what else was there to do?

________________________________

The air was thick with dread and tension as you slowly made your way up to the loading dock with your helper droid that carried your tools. You pretended to tinker with one of the ventilator shafts until Palpatine was within your view. 

After a few shipments were packed and transported, you took a breath and headed towards the emperor. 

Only a few steps away and his sickening yellow eyes landed on you; in a panic you bowed to him and rushed out an apology. 

“Stand, my young friend” he spoke with a curious tone. 

You did as the sith asked and allowed him to examine your features. 

“What troubles you?” he asked, placing a wiry clawed hand on your back. You hold back a shiver. 

“I am one of Lord Vader’s mechanic’s and I have not received another task from him in a few days. I have finished all of my pending duties and I worry the Lord will become angry if he returns and I have not accomplished anything further” you spoke formally and as if you had no idea where he had gone. 

“I was debating whether or not to approach you. I know you are a very busy man, but I also know that you are my Lord’s superior, so you may have a more urgent task I can attend to- I would rather not putter around and waste the empire’s time”.

The hooded man smiled a toothy grin, “Ahh, young one- your ambition pleases me. I may have a task for you, but first what is the other question you wish to ask?”.

You did have another question, but you didn’t think you indicated that you had one.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you knew where my Lord went off to? It’s not like him to disappear without letting his staff know” (that wasn’t entirely true, but you might as well see what you can get out of the old man).

“I’m not sure where he’s gone off to, hopefully he will return to you soon. I can tell he means a great deal to you” the pale man creepily smiled before dismissing himself to attend to other matters. 

Shit. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. 

_________________________

Vader groaned in pain as the mouse droid he just rewired began to fuse a random droid’s leg to his port; He needed to be able to walk somehow and this is the best he could do as of now. 

He knew it was going to hurt like hell when he would eventually have to get it seared off (He wouldn’t be able to get his new prosthetics on without getting this replacement leg off.)

Once he was relatively put together he prepared himself to hoist himself up. He winced at the pressure of his weight on the unfamiliar legs, but nevertheless, he pressed on.

He made his way through the dingy compound, looking for ways out and back to you. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a low level bounty hunter. Did this fool really think he could take Vader? 

Without any effort, Vader slammed the armed man against the opposite wall once he started to get too close.

If there was one, there were more, Vader needed to get out of here before a real threat came his way…

***

a/n: thanks for bearing with me through finals eeekkk sorry i’ve been on an atrocious upload schedule

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai i @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry

[billycorn]

Patchwork: Chapter 2 - Something More

A Explorers of Sky au following the Hero is Darkrai theory, but after the events at Temporal Tower Darkrai returns to Treasure Town in an effort to prevent his inevitable corruption. Read Previous Chapter Here!

//

Three months had passed since Jasper's return and life was peaceful in Treasure Town, if not rather boring. If only it could stay that way, but no, not when you have Buia for a partner.

Jasper bolted upright out of a dead sleep. Smoke filled the air and leaked from the jaws of Sharpedo Bluff. Buia squatted beside the fire pit carved into the wall, watching with a vacant expression as their breakfast burned to a crisp under the roaring flames.

"Put it out!" Yelled Jasper.

Buia's eyes went wide, and she snapped back to reality. She shot a burst of water at the flames, dousing them in an instant and leaving her pancakes a soggy burnt mess.

Coughing through the smoke, Jasper flew to the wall and flapped his wings, pushing the smoke from the bluff. When it was gone, he drifted back the ground, ruffling his feathers and checking that nothing was damaged.

After moving in, they'd build a firepit in the wall, above a counter that housed several cupboards. In the corner sat a rocky pool, trickling in freshwater from the stream running through town. A small table with two chairs sat in the room center. Their nests were by the edge of the bluff, and were moved depending on the weather.

"What was that?" Huffed Jasper.

Buia hung her head. "Uh, sorry. I wanted to make us something special for our first day as full-fledged explorers, but..."

Jasper sighed and stretched his wings, flinching at his shoulder muscles' aching. The graduation exam had been no joke; Wigglytuff hits harder than the isekai truck.

Moving to a trunk tucked against the wall, Jasper slung their exploration bag over his shoulder and grabbed some basic items. "Well, how about we get breakfast at Spinda's then?"

Buia's tails straightened. "Really? Yes! Let's go!"

"Is the fire fully out?"

She fired one last jet of water at the flickering coals. "Is now."

Jasper nodded and leapt into the air, soaring out from between Sharpedo's gaping maw. Buia leapt out after him. Jasper flew a loop, then dove, catching Buia in her freefall. Spreading his wings, he banked upwards and drifted lazily on the winds towards Spinda's.

It was a beautiful morning, sun climbing across the sky, it's rays like fingers reaching to hold the distant mountains. A cold breeze blew around them and Jasper relished the feeling of it passing through his feathers. Buia whooped delightedly, the chill racing across her thick pelt.

Soaring over the beach, Jasper could spot the Krabby scuttling amongst the rocks. He swooped low and Buia shouted her greetings as they passed.

Angling up, Jasper caught the ocean breeze and practically floated up the path to the crossroads. He dropped Buia, circled twice, then landed gracefully beside her.

"Hey, your landings are a lot better these days."

Jasper scoffed. "Try telling the Kecleon's that."

Buia couldn't help but smile at the memory of Jasper, still new to the skies, crashing headlong into the Kecleons' store, smashing their merchandise in an explosion of feathers and splintered boxes. "How much do we still owe them?"

"Depends who you ask. After saving the world, I say we're even."

Buia couldn't argue with that, and hey, if they didn't have to repay the Kecleons, well that was more money she could spend on materials. For weeks now, she'd been designing a new orb, trying to fill it with crushed blast seeds. Jasper had been horrified at stumbling onto her little project, especially since she'd left it so close to his bed. At first, he'd scolded her for trying to make a bomb. Then, he grew pensive, running a wing along his chin and musing about using it on a certain Skuntank.

Another cold breeze ripped through the air and Buia led the charge down the steps. Thankfully, it was warm inside Spinda's; quiet too. This early, only a few other exploration teams were around. A low murmur of conversation filled the cafe. Spinda danced between tables, taking orders and serving drinks. The recycling stand stood abandoned; Wynaut and Wobuffet were probably still asleep.

Jasper headed for an empty table, but Buia grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him towards a livelier table. He didn't fight it, only sighed in resignation. Team Razorwind was at least bearable; a small mercy.

The Sandshrew, Scyther and Zangoose called a greeting as Buia slid into a chair across from them, setting Jasper up beside her. After some light conversation, Buia devoured two stacks of pancakes while Jasper nibbled on a fruit salad. Spinda didn't need to ask their orders: the pair really should practice their cooking skills; especially since Chimecho wouldn't be cooking for them anymore.

As Team Razorwind left, Jasper brushed some crumbs from his beak and looked curiously at his partner. "So, what were you thinking about?"

"Huh?"

"Earlier, what were you thinking about?"

It took a moment for Buia to recall her attempt at making breakfast. "Oh, right! How'd you know I was thinking?"

"Looked like you were in pain." Jasper lapped at his chesto spiced latte, hissing appreciatively. "Oh, that'll wake you up."

Buia shrugged. "I was just thinking, what next?"

Jasper's head tilted, his eyebrows raising in an unspoken question.

"I mean, we're graduates now. Do uh, do you want to do this forever?"

Staring into the depths of his mug, Jasper searched for an answer, but the drink promised nothing more than caffeine. "What would we do instead?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love being an explorer. It's just, after everything, it seems strange that the only thing ahead of us are job requests and breakfast at Spinda's."

Jasper didn't answer, choosing instead to focus on nibbling the berry clutched between his talons.

"Jay, do you like being an explorer?"

At that, Jasper's gaze rose to meet hers. "Course. Why?"

Buia shrugged. "You only became one because I asked you to join me. I was just wondering if maybe you'd... had enough."

Gaze returning to his berry, Jasper drowned in memories. Grovyle and Celebi. Dusknoir. The Time Gears, Temporal Tower, and Dialga. Buia. Being an explorer had given him everything, and it was all he knew; could he do anything else?

Before he could find an answer, Spinda came stumbling over, smiling broadly and wiping their hands on an apron. "Team Typhoon! I was wondering if you could help me with a job."

Buia spun to face the kindly cafe owner. "What do you need?"

"Perfect apples. There's a new recipe I want to try. If you get me some, I'll give you three free meals, counting this morning."

"Deal!" Shouted Buia.

Jasper shook his head, shooting Spinda an exasperated look. The barista (is Spinda a barista?) merely poked their tongue out innocently and strolled away, calling over their shoulder, "excellent! Five should do."

Buia crammed the last of her breakfast into her mouth and started for the door, practically bouncing on the spot. "Chom an!" She said, through a mouthful.

Rolling his eyes, Jasper grabbed one last berry in his beak and hurried after her.

The flight to Apple Woods was a short one, and before long, Team Typhoon were traipsing through the dungeon. Imposing walls of thick vegetation loomed high on all sides; narrow paths cut between the hedges, promising escape. Yet, around each corner, enemies lurked, not that that was a problem.

Buia led the way through the dungeon, strolling down a long corridor. Arriving at a dead end, she groaned and turned, spotting an Exeggutor lumbering up behind them. "I've got it."

"Be my guest." Jasper stepped to the side, then fell back, watching as Buia charged their opponent.

Exeggutor roared a challenge and fired a seed bomb. Buia flipped past the massive seeds and ducked low, springing up into a brutal uppercut, her fist glowing blue with an ice punch. The Exeggutor stumbled and Buia spun, a spiral of water forming around her tails and slamming into Exeggutor. The aqua tail sent it flying into a nearby wall, where it collapsed and lay still. Buia nodded approvingly, hands planted firmly on her hips. Without a word, they kept moving.

Eight floors deep in the dungeon, Buia batted aside an over-eager Bellsprout and made for the stairs in the centre of the room. "Man, this is so much easier than last time. It's almost boring."

Climbing the stairs, Buia froze as she felt the air shift around her. They were in the centre of a wide room, various items scattered about. In a flash, enemies dropped from seemingly nowhere, pouring into the room: A monster house.

Standing at her back, Jasper groaned. "You just had to say something."

Buia grinned, dropping into a crouch. She glanced over her shoulder to find Jasper looking back at her, shaking his head, but smiling, nonetheless.

As countless foes charged, Buia began dancing, spinning, jumping, and sliding between their attacks. The dungeon grew darker as clouds formed overhead and rain began to hammer down. Buia leapt high, gracefully slipping from her rain dance into aqua jet. She darted around the room, ricocheting off enemies.

Meanwhile, Jasper took to the air, flapping his wings mightily and sending heavy gusts through the room. His hurricane ripped apart the dungeon, carving through enemies and tearing the walls apart. Amidst the veritable typhoon, the ferals scattered, running terrified, but even if they got free of Jasper's attacks, Buia was there to hunt them down.

Two minutes later, and the room lay in ruins. Unconscious foes were strewn about and the items that had littered the floor were gone; replaced by vegetation torn from the walls. The dungeon groaned, an eerie creaking sound that sent a shiver down Buia's spine.

"That's our cue!" She said, hurrying from the room.

Jasper followed in hot pursuit. They raced through the dungeon and before long, found themselves standing before a large tree. Plump apples weighed heavily on the boughs and the branches sat a little higher after Jasper pulled the apples free, dropping them for Buia to catch.

Grabbing the twelve freshest apples, five for Spinda and seven for Wigglytuff - a gift to Chatot more than anything - the pair started the trek home.

Buia stretched, mewling happily. "Redemption! No needing to bathe in tomato juice this time."

Jasper's face scrunched as he thought on the last time they'd come this far into the dungeon, and the subsequent fight with Team Skull. "We would've won if Skuntank didn't gas us. That's a freaking war crime!"

Buia quirked an eyebrow, but she'd long since learnt that not everything Jasper says makes sense. Actually, a lot of his speech didn't make sense. Strange, really. Where did all the sense go?

"Yeah, it would've been nice to pound his face in," she mused.

Jasper fell silent, opting to listen as Buia began rambling about some shiny thing that had caught her eye. The distance passed mindlessly and before long, the pair found themselves back in Spinda's cafe.

Spinda had been delighted and promised them a taste of the recipe. Since they'd been so quick, it was still early afternoon, and Spinda would have plenty of time to get things ready.

As the day wore on, the cafe filled with explorers, returning from a hard day's work. The noise level rose with the growing customers, as did the activity in the kitchens. Before long, laughter and light-hearted chatter filled the air, mingling with delicious aromas wafting about. A Kricketune stood in a corner, playing a soft melody on his arms.

Buia bounced between tables, chatting to all the different teams and asking about their explorations. Wherever she went, laughter followed, and her smile never faltered, nor failed to elicit a similar expression from whoever she was speaking to. Meanwhile, Jasper sat at a table by himself, watching the world pass by with a small smile. Days like these were perfect; he couldn't understand how Buia could want them to end.

"Hello."

Torn from his reverie, Jasper glanced sidelong, straightening when his gaze settled upon the stranger. A black Pokemon with a snatched waist floated beside the table. It had long black arms ending in shadowy claws. A spiked red collar covered its mouth and half its face was obscured by a flowing white plume. A single blue eye peered from beside the plume, it's icy gaze sending a shiver down Jasper's spine.

The stranger was a Darkrai, a nightmare, a shadow, the boogeyman. Most Pokemon were wise enough to fear Darkrai's name, but few had any idea how the eldritch horror might look. Not to mention, Darkrai had practiced long and hard, learning to control his aura. So, others wouldn't notice his strength, nor suffer nightmares.

Jasper nodded politely. "Evening."

The stranger's head tilted slightly. "I'm Patch. Are you Jasper, of team Typhoon?"

Fantastic. Another fan, come to express their thanks for saving the world. Jasper could appreciate their gratitude but preferred to do so from a distance. Jasper waved a wing in Buia's direction. "Talk to the Buizel over there. She's Team Typhoon's leader."

Patch's brow furrowed, but he turned nonetheless, spotting Buia. Patch offered a wave before floating over to where Buia was excitedly talking to a Bellsprout, Camerupt, and Ponyta.

Jasper's head cocked curiously as he watched Patch introduce himself. In a flash, Buia's smile had fallen and her nose had scrunched. Recognising the telltale sign of her thinking, Jasper strained to hear, but he couldn't make out the words over the noise.

Buia's smile returned with a burst of laughter, and she offered a quick goodbye to Team Flame. Then, she raced to Jasper's side, her tails spinning excitedly; Patch following in her wake.

"J!" She stood behind him, clutching his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his. "I've got it!"

"And what is it, exactly?"

"What's next! My new friend, Patch, wants to join our team as an apprentice!"

"What?" Jasper snapped his gaze around to look at Buia.

She skipped deftly backwards, wearing a beaming smile. "I know, I know, but think about it. He'd technically be an apprentice with the guild, but he doesn't have a team. So, he would come with us on missions. We could help train new explorers!"

Jasper's gaze passed over Patch with agonizing scrutiny. "I don't know..."

"Come on, please?"

"Our missions aren't exactly beginner friendly."

Buia rolled her eyes. "We spent the day collecting apples. We'll take it easy for a little bit. A couple local missions, test his strength. Then, go from there." Spinning on her heel, Buia moved to stand beside Patch, elbowing him with a wink. "Besides, if it doesn't work out, we can just dump him on Chatot."

Jasper groaned, long and low, but eventually relented. "Fffffffine. We'll see how it goes. But! If he's more trouble than he's worth, we drop him."

Patch's smile was hidden by his collar, but the expression was clear in his eyes and voice. "Thank you very much. You won't regret it."

"We'll see," mumbled Jasper. "Meet us at the Guild in the morning. Once the paperwork is done, we'll see what you're made of."

"Can't wait!"

Waving goodbye, Patch drifted away, leaving Buia bouncing on the spot and looking excitedly at her partner. Jasper cocked an eyebrow, giving her a dry look.

Throwing her arms wide, Buia slumped into a chair. "Oh, come on! This'll be good for us."

"How?"

"J, we get to help someone fall in love with exploring. Isn't that exciting? Also, he'd probably become an apprentice either way. With our help, perhaps he can be a little safer out there."

"Since when were you a bleeding heart?"

"Since I lost you."

Jasper dropped his head to the table, a dull thud fighting to be heard over the noise. "You can't win every argument with that."

Buia smirked. "Watch me."

Jasper groaned and closed his eyes, a foolish decision. Really, he should've known better. Quick as lightning, Buia grabbed Jasper and yoinked him into her lap. Wrapping her arms around him, she nuzzled the top of his head with her own and giggled. Jasper squawked and squirmed, but couldn't break free of her iron grip. Some days he swore she worked out purely to get away with nonsense like this.

"This conversation isn't over!"

"Uh huh," she said, clearly unconvinced.

Jasper sighed and stopped fighting. Buia loosened her grip, but Jasper didn't move. Instead, he settled on her lap, letting his eyes drift closed as she slowly dragged her paws through his plumage.

Shortly after, Spinda sauntered through the crowds, placing two steaming bowls of... something, before them.

"My new recipe!" Spinda announced with a flourish. "Stewed apples, with some pastry crumbled on top, covered by a thin layer of custard and shaved chocolate!"

Buia made a shushing motion, only reaching for the bowls when she was sure Jasper was asleep. Yet, his talon closed tight around her wrist. "You wouldn't be thinking of eating both of those, would you?"

"Whaaaaaat? No, course not. Though, this is the first dessert I've had since Temporal Tower. I just couldn't bring myself to eat dessert without you."

"That's a bald-faced lie!" Exclaimed Spinda. "Jasper, the amount of ice cream I had to order in the weeks after your disappearance was absurd!"

Shuffling around, Jasper smirked at Buia, but she was staring slack-jawed at Spinda, a betrayed expression on her face.

"Aw, did you miss me?"

"Go away!" She muttered, shoving him playfully.

The pair laughed, the sound rising and melding with the music, an elegant crescendo to a day well spent. If only Patch were there to hear it, but no. Patch was in Treasure Town, sneaking into the inn through an upstairs window.

Glancing about, he confirmed the room was empty and lay down to sleep; a smile hidden beneath his red collar. He was officially part of Team Typhoon: Now, his plan could begin. If everything went well, before long, he would no longer exist.

Closing his eyes, Patch reached out with his mind, grabbing any stray tendrils of his aura leaking out into the night and pulled them in. The wisps of fear settled deep in his gut, swirling and roiling into a knot. Pushing the discomfort aside, he waited for sleep, and the subsequent nightmares. Yet, they came far more gently than before; only to then rip free as if someone yanked his heart from its cage within his chest.

Within the dream, Patch felt warm. He was somewhere safe. This was once a familiar feeling. Now, it took time for him to place it. Yet, it could only be the arms of his father. Dusknoir sat leaning against a thick tree, singing softly. A tiny Rufflet was cradled in his arms.

"Hey, Dad?"

Dusknoir's gaze shifted from a crackling fire to rest upon his son. A crinkle appeared around his eyes, reminiscent of a fond smile. "Yes?"

"Everything's so quiet. I would be happy if I never woke up. Just... disappeared."

[pentecostwaite]

My Hand in Thine: An All Hallows Story in Parts

I.

John Kidney returns home to a blessedly empty house, coals carefully banked in the fireplace and everything in order. He heaves the batten door closed behind him, turns the key in the lock. Supper is wrapped in a cloth on the table, and the room is newly swept, neat as a pin. John Kidney hangs up his hat beside the door. His sister’s child, Jennet, has left his service for the day. She is a good girl, but he has always encouraged her to return to her family at night. He doesn’t want a lodger, an extra pair of eyes and ears in his house. He prefers to be alone. It’s safer that way.

He bends to light a rush in the coals, clamps the lit tallowed reed in an iron holder and brings it to the table. He’s about to take his seat for supper when he spies the fine, white, kidskin gloves and the tiny box on the table beside the food. The sight of them knocks the breath from his lungs. He feels cold bloom in his chest. And so it is. He can no longer pretend. The mourning goods have arrived.

He takes up the box and opens it. A ring bounces out and into his hand. There is a slim scroll of press-printed paper rolled into the center of the ring, and he slides it out, unfurls it by the rushlight. 

You are Desir’d to Accompany the Corps of Mr. Thomas Quarles, from the Dwelling House of his Dafter, Mistress Anna Quarles, on Thursday next being the 20th of October 1733, at Ten of the Clock in the Morning precisely, to the Burying-Ground of Salem.

He sets the invitation down gently and turns his gaze to the ring. It’s gold and jet enamel, the slender form of a skeleton wound round its surface. And on the inside, there is skillful engraving: Thos. Quarles: ob: 16 Oct: 1733 aet. 49. John Kidney sighs, rubs his thumb hard into his temple. It feels impossible that Thomas should be gone. One day he lived, and the next he did not. All the glorious subtleties of his character wiped roughly from the slate of the earth. Tempus fugit. Memento mori.

His eyes well with hot tears. He turns his attention to his simple supper.

In bed that night, he cannot sleep. His mind spins like a waterwheel with the sluice gate open. Memories churn in his brain. He recalls his first encounter with Thomas at Meeting one Sunday, years ago: a young widower, lately come from Marblehead, his small, dark-eyed daughter in tow. An average man of uncommon wealth and rare kindness. Grey eyes like a November sea. John Kidney stared at his mouth, at his fine white teeth, and tried to pay attention to his words. All he heard was Thomas’s smile. John Kidney was lost.

Of all the trajectories he imagined for his life, this was one he never dared consider. But somehow, as improbable as a flower blooming at the end of a wharf, it came to pass, and with a similar wild beauty. They were both merchants, true, and so both with a common bank of interests. Small talk led to drinks, led to dinners, led to companionship. They shared long walks through Salem, discussing all manner of topics, watching the ships depart and return. John Kidney brought baubles and poppets for the child, Anna, and slowly her veil of sadness lifted.

One foggy autumn evening, returning together from the public house, Thomas pushed John Kidney into an alleyway, cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. With that, joy entered John Kidney’s life. Existence, he knew, was meant to be a trial, but how could it be when Thomas was his own true love? As the months passed, new pleasures were revealed. By the new moon’s perfect pitch darkness they joined together breathlessly in the warmth of John Kidney’s bed, tow napkins tacked over the windows and all lights extinguished. Sin be damned; this was Heaven.

And so it was for years and years. Anna grew from a child to a woman, blessed with Thomas’s kindness and what he insisted was her late mother’s wit. They tried to conceal the shape of their connection from her, but she was a clever soul. They suspected she knew. And in truth the three formed an odd family in a way. The arrangement suited them fine. But all of that was over.

Thomas was dead.

__________

(to be continued)

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

"Disco Inferno!" (Press the button.)

+5 XP

+1 Superstar Cop

MEASUREHEAD - As you slam your fist on the button the man collapses entirely, his head rolling to the side...

MEASUREHEAD'S BABE - "Looks like you're the new Measurehead now."

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] - Her voice is surprisingly calm.

KIM KITSURAGI - "No one is the new Measurehead -- let's go. Before he gets up..." The lieutenant makes haste toward the door.

+1 Reputation

We can now enter the harbour.

The door is locked and cannot be opened from this side without a pass card.

Guess you have no choice but to talk to the Union leader.

*EVERY WORKER - MEMBER OF THE BOARD* is written at the top of the flyers.

And at the bottom: the Union logo and *DEMAND DEMOCRACY*!

This is a *Dewy* typewriter -- the model name is on the back.

A standard office file cabinet. The drawers seem to be locked.

Someone left the coffee machine on.

The dark liquid in the pot looks almost sentient.

POSTCARD "LE JARDIN '21"

This laminated post card offers a glimpse across the river. A little more than a decade after the war, the eastern bank is already fully renovated. The hillsides are lush with gardens and residences, someone's parked a small beige airship by the fountain. This postcard will sell for a pretty penny.

NEAT OFFICE SHADES

+1 Visual Calculus: Eye of the reckoner -1 Drama: A bit dry

These were stuffed away in the Dockworker's Union office. They're perfect for scribbling down paperwork when the sun tries to get in your eye. Good for staring down suspects too.

There's also a Magnesium in here.

FILE CABINET - On second glance, someone has forgotten to properly close one of the drawers.

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's *unfortunate* for the Union to just leave their paperwork lying around like this..."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - ...let's see what's inside, he thinks.

Open the drawer.

Ignore the drawer for now. [Leave.]

FILE CABINET - The drawer opens smoothly. Inside is a well-organized selection of brown folders.

Browse through the folders.

Close the drawer. [Leave.]

FILE CABINET - Hundreds of documents containing logistical data. Two kinds of transactions stand out: materials coming into Revachol from the outside world -- from Mundi, Graad, and even Iilmaraa...

...and the same materials being handed over to companies inside Revachol. Couron, Coal City, La Delta, and Jamrock are listed among the many districts where the imports are being sold.

Anything interesting? (Browse them.)

FILE CABINET - It's hard to make sense of this thicket of company names, dates, quantities, and percentages. You try to focus, but the lines are getting blurry...

2. [Volition - Medium 10] Force yourself to go through the folders.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] - Whatever's hidden here is hidden well. Concentration isn't enough, only a trained accountant, with a background in logistics, would be able to *really* make sense of it. However there *is* a little hand-written note, stuck on the side of the drawer.

Look at the note.

"Never mind the note." (Close the drawer.)

FILE CABINET - It appears to be a to-do list written in large, uneven capital letters:

REMEMBER, LEO!

* EVRART'S SHOES * SPECIAL WHIRLING BORSCHT * WATER EVRART'S PLANTS * SWEEP OFFICE FLOOR * MORE BANNERS

All items on the list have been crossed out and the note itself is crumpled.

(Turn to the lieutenant.) "Look, Kim, a to-do note with a list of errands for *Evrart*."

Ignore the note.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Evrart Claire, probably -- the head of the Débardeurs' Union." He inspects the note. "One of his aides must have left it. Nothing incriminating here."

+5 XP

3. Close the drawer. [Leave.]

FILE CABINET - The drawer slides shut smoothly.

THOUGHT COMPLETE: COL DO MA MA DAQUA

BONUSES: +3 Perception: Golden ear -1 Encyclopedia: No room for anything else

It's not only your eardrums that register sound anymore – your very skin has become an organ of hearing. Looking for a whisper light and low, a god who’s very, very silent. Nothing escapes you – a cockroach in the other room, a candy wrapper falling on dry grass, a drunk falling from a chair in a bar 20 metres away. In fact, you haven’t heard the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua, but you *have* discovered that you have amazing hearing. It must be the only part of you the alcohol hasn’t drowned out. Keep listening!

That's a lot of Perception. It'll be worth looking around Martinaise some more, once we get back on the streets.

ITEM GAINED: BOOK "LA FUMEE, VOL. 1 NO. 4"

The leading intellectual organ of Martinaise communism. Offers a radical Masovian perspective on a range of contemporary issues. The cover features a stylised portrait of the late King Frissel with a pair of white antlers growing out of his head.

Let's read this later.

A giant assprint on the pillow and a pattern of coffee rings on the armrest...

The radio is emitting strange buzzing sounds.

PUNCH CLOCK/PAYPHONE - An imposing combination of a punch-clock and a payphone is looking down at you from the wall. A note on the side says: "Tokens unavailable due to strike. Use change."

Insert 10 cents.

[Leave.]

Why not?

PUNCH CLOCK/PAYPHONE - The machine swallows your coin and seems to be waiting for your next move.

[Interfacing - Challenging 12] Let your muscle memory dial a random number.

[Leave.]

INTERFACING [Challenging: Success] - Your fingers run over the dial pad. 005... that's the dialling code for Revachol -- 49-52... and a moment of hesitation before entering the final numbers: 993.

PUNCH CLOCK/PAYPHONE - Calling...

Calling...

Still calling... then...

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - ...a crackle, someone picks up! They say: "Video Revachol, 24 hour video rental. We rent eight- and ten-millimetre film for home use. This is Lemmy, how may I help you?"

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - The voice of a youngster on the other end sounds as enthusiastic as that of a man walking towards the gallows.

"What is this place?"

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Video Revachol is a 24 hour video rental. We rent eight and ten millimetre film for home use. This is Lemmy."

"No, I meant, what is this place to *me*?"

"Do you know me?"

"Why did I call you?" (Continue.)

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Sir, I don't know. It's a video rental. Maybe you rent videos here?"

2. "Do you know me?"

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "No."

3. "Why did I call you?" (Continue.)

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Maybe you called to extend your rental period? Do you need to extend your rental period?"

"Maybe, but I don't even know my *name*."

"My name is Raphael Ambrosius Costeau. Do you have anything on my name?"

Quietly hang up the phone. [Leave.]

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Raphaël *what*? Listen, I can't help you over the phone." He sounds annoyed now. "If you need further assistance you can visit us on the corner of Voyager and Main. Are we done?"

+5 XP

Level up!

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He thinks you're pulling a prank on him.

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - The call is terminated by the other party. You're left with the discomforting sound of the disconnect tone.

That... that's enough for today.

[willydynomite]

Coal bank pass

[sixminutestoriesblog]

domovoy

Let's wander a bit away from superstition for a moment and head into folklore.

People the world over all seem to have the same idea. There just aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done - and wouldn't it be nice if someone in this house would pitch in and help from time to time! And so, all over the world, you'll find household helpers. The Domovoy is the Slavic answer.

The Domovoy lives behind the stove or under the doorstep in a house and is rarely if ever seen. Which isn't to say that he doesn't make his presence known! This household guardian is responsible for all the quiet noises the house makes during the night, the creaks and groans of the wood floor settling are the sounds of the domovoy finishing off the household chores after everyone has gone to bed. He's a hearth guardian, watching over the banked coals all night long and keeping them alive until morning when they'll be needed. A pleased domovoy will watch after the children of a household and the animals as well, keeping them away from dangers - and keeping dangers away from them. The domovoy also plays a prophetic roll, aware of approaching death, disease or misfortune and warning the family with noises in the night. The domovoy, a creature centered more on family than building, also doesn't like to be left alone for too long and so there's a tradition of, just before you set off on a long journey, sitting quietly near the door for a few minutes in the hopes of tricking the domovoy into thinking you're not really leaving.

This is because the domovoy isn't always helpful or even protective. If it suspects the family is going on a long journey it may steal things and hide them, so the family has to stay to look for something they can't leave on their journey without. The domovoy is also easily angered with slothful house members or the use of foul language and will retaliate with terrifying noises in the night if you're lucky and burning your house down around you if you're not so lucky. A domovoy is best treated with respect then. He should always be referred to, not by name but rather as 'grandfather' or 'himself'. If a family is planning on moving, they should invite their domovoy to go with them and, when they move into the new house, leave the first slice of bread from the first meal the family eats in the house either under the stove or buried in the courtyard to welcome him in. In more extreme cases, its blood the domovoy requires, in the form of a rooster or a hen.

In appearance, domovoy are said to look like little old men, with big grey beards and flashing eyes, dressed either in red or grey. Domovoy can change shape at will as well, all the way from snakes to barnyard animals right up to the head of the family or a dead ancestor.

Speaking of which, tracing back to his early beginning roots, the domovoy was probably once a form of ancestor worship, the belief that a founding member of the family, after death, didn't pass on but rather stayed behind to watch over his progeny and share their joys and pains. He started as a small, personalized household god, one the family appeased and honored in exchange for his goodwill and support against outside forces. There's a female version called the domania as well but oftentimes the domovoy ruled the household alone.

a Silesian domovoy statue. These statues were usually placed in niches near the door or hearth of a home.

[shegoesbyjoy]

WAIT has anyone drawn each of the in-game postcards? maybe even to sell them as actual physical postcards???

would absolutely love to see how DE's talented fan artists render each of these, given how much the game illustrations leave up for interpretation

[Postcard Martinaise '98] A faded picture postcard from the end of the last century shows Martinaise as was before the Revolution. It's the height of summer, Rue de Saint-Ghislaine is teeming with parasol-wielding bourgeoisie and Wild Pines flags buttress the walkway. Nothing is written on the back.

[Postcard Grand Couron '37] This postcard depicts an ill-advised residential area overlooking the Jamrock Quarter. 13-story buildings line the hillside like sarcophagi, an ominous fog already rising from behind. These are the last boom years -- in '39 the project fails catastrophically, leaving behind an opiate and hepatitis B infested slum.

[Postcard Le Jardin '21] This laminated post card offers a glimpse across the river. A little more than a decade after the war, the eastern bank is already fully renovated. The hillsides are lush with gardens and residences, someone's parked a small beige airship by the fountain. This postcard will sell for a pretty penny.

[Postcard La Delta '51] The sunlight has made this postcard almost completely sepia-toned. Midtown traffic passes, overhead the ghosts of skyscrapers disappear into a beige mid-day mist -- vapour rising from the delta on which the district was built. The postcard is pre-paid.

[Postcard Boogie Street '46] This crumpled up postcard depicts an open air market in Boogie Street ~5 years ago. A vendor smiles as dead roosters line his stalls -- hung by their feet from canopy. Red blood flows onto the muddy street, blurry shadows of people pass.

[Postcard Couron '33] This one has 'HELL' written on its back. It could not be further from the truth. It's the boom years, and Couron, the nicest district in Revachol West, is enjoying a sun drenched day. Tall and handsome buildings rise from the riverside: steel, iron and yellow limestone, with cloud shadows sliding on the facades.

[Postcard Coal City '08] This postcard depicts a forest of smokestacks releasing fat plumes of smoke into blue, cloudless sky. The tinge of age – the colour of old teeth – gives it a sickly look. Written on the back is a single sentence, repeated twice: I got out. I got out. No addressee.

(game item screenshots & descriptions courtesy of the Disco Elysium wiki)

[thelostcanyon]

Near Coal Bank Pass along US-550, San Juan County, Colorado.