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sawdustandstardust · 26 days ago

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broadcast signals (mel king x frank langdon)

the kingdon hunger games au

Additional Tags: Drug Use and Abuse; Frank/Abby fail-marriage; Pre-Affair; mentor!Frank; tribute!Mel; “will ruin my life and credit to bring her home” etc.; cleaning out the WIP folder and consolidating old projects so UNFINISHED and UNEDITED FYI; first mention (?) of season 2 mystery boy james in fanfic (?) lmao

When memories of Frank’s games replay in his mind, they’re tinged in sepia.

Enormous mountains and canyon ranges that enclosed a death valley on each side. The arena design was one of the most innovative the games had ever seen; if viewed aerially, it would’ve compared to the wobbly rings of a cut tree trunk. Each ring a different horror, infinitely spinning around and around.

He remembers the moment of looking at the open stretch of cracked, dried land. At the terrifying, far-off dust storm that’s dangerously close to cross over the horizon line, barreling past a backdrop of far-off canyons—stratum rendered in reds, sandy browns, and purples that bloom like a bruise. The chaotic mix of prairie dirt and desert wind and heat tangles like a knotted ball of yarn and he think this is it. This is when I’m going to die.

Frank gets lucky when the massive threat loses momentum before it made its way to his makeshift camp, dissolving into the morning breeze as quickly as it materialized. He finds out later that night, while looking up at the cold night sky, that six tributes died in the storm. Doesn’t cry. Couldn’t risk dehydration. The arena had drought baked into its creation. Divine design. Frank’s determined to not be its next sacrifice.

This drive will garner him the Panem-wide reputation of being an uncaring asshole, because minuscule cameras are scattered throughout every area of the games. Hundreds of hours of unique footage, are logged and uploaded to the Capitol 24-hour game stream.

And every time a fellow competitor is killed, no one watching ever sees Frank Langdon weep. Even when his bare, sunburnt fists brutally beat into the final tribute's skull—James. District 1, sun-drenched, blonde, golden boy who carried around a fucking sponsored sword like an apocalyptic knight—and keeps going. Far after the canons blast, even after the pain shooting from his spine makes him vomit on the ground. Hit after hit after hit.

The valley makes him feral, his kill count in the teens. A product of his environment, where he only received one sponsored gift—a first-aid medical kit following a near-deadly bite from a genetically modified desert kingmaker—during the entire fifty-six days of his games. Head down, Robby wrote in the attached note. Keep going. Don’t stop.

District 6 doesn’t cheer at his homecoming. Applause is for heroes, not for scrappy, stray dogs that got lucky. Frank never willingly goes back.

(But, no matter how much he networks and drinks and fucks and marries his way into the Capitol, he becomes the District 6 stereotype anyway, spending his nights floating away on morphling, desperately trying to always outrun the hot, arid sun.)

So much had been written over the years about the parasocial connection between victors and the Capitol citizens who bankroll their futures. Articles profiling games-enthusiasts who spent thousands of coins on just one night with their favorite victor. Entire virtual communities dedicated to cataloging their every move, confirming the canon of their games. Shaky videos and shoddy transcriptions used to fuel speculation and fantasies, with victor themed AI chat-bots raking in millions of hits every year.

His wife, Abby, runs her hands through his hair.

“You were my favorite,” she’d whispered, “begged daddy to send you money for that med kit on day fifteen. Frank, you looked so bad.”

He places kisses along her temple, on her soft cheeks as his hips thrust inside her. Her family managed a government-backed jewelry conglomerate. When they met at the end of his victory tour, she giggled into her champagne flute, confessed to stalking him on the Capitol game feeds, compulsively watching highlights from each day over and over. All my friends wanted James to win, but I always liked brunettes better.

In the after, they will unconsciously untangle themselves from one another in their sleep. Return to their own bedsides and pillows, growing cold due to the cavernous space between their bodies.

Every year is the same.

Go to the reaping ceremony. Watch the light from two children's eyes completely extinguish. Haphazardly prepare them for the arena, do his best to charm sponsors. Never succeeds. District 1 still hates his guts and District 6 doesn’t have the public relations capital to pull interest. His tributes rarely make it into the top twelve and Frank spends the days after their murders locked in his expensive apartment, high out of his mind.

This round, he doesn’t bother to learn anything about his tributes, both weak-armed thirteen year olds who stare out the window the whole train ride to the Capitol. Nothing matters, because they’re not the one everyone is talking about.

“Did you see the blond girl from District 3? Sister would not stop screaming when her name was called,” Heather, from District 7, tells him. “It was so bad that they edited it out when they aired the nightly recap on the servers. Twins. Days away from their nineteenth birthday. So close to aging out from all this.”

“Does John have a plan?” Frank envied the District 3’s mentor, who seemingly never lets the stress of the games get to him.

“Same as always? Damned if they win, damned if they don’t. Nothing ever changes.”

On the third day of training, the scores are announced and Frank’s own ten rings in his ears like the death canon. His mentees score a three and a four; they probably won’t make it past the opening rush towards the cornucopia. Always tell them to run in the opposite direction but they never listen. The girl from District Three scores a seven.

Good. Middle of the pack, not a push-over, but not immediately a threat.

Mel mel mel! I’m sure everyone here is curious about all things YOU! What can you tell us that nobody else knows?

I’m…really excited to be here and want to win the games for my sister, Becca. It’s just us and our mother back in our district and I would like nothing else than to go back home to them.

Hordes of avant-garde clad bodies caudalise outside the tribute parade arena. Frank doesn’t really give a fuck about any of this. Wants nothing more than to rip the sheer shirt he’s currently wearing off his body; wash away the glitter highlighter that Princess and Perlah promised looked like the shimmering paint of the District 6 built trains of Panem. Wants to go back home and fade out—

—a body bumps into his: a human tornado of thin wires and reflective fabric and blinking lights that practically screams out District 3, blonde hair braided into two intricate twists, pinned in the back at the nape of her neck. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. There’s a lot going on. Mel, right?”

“Uh, yes. That’s me!” She flashes a small, nervous smile and Frank can’t help being charmed by her slight enthusiasm, the way she fiddles with her hands in front of her.

“Frank Langdon, District 6,” he holds out his hand, cocking his head to the side when she doesn’t take it. Smart.

“I know who you are. My sister and I watched your games. I’m sorry about your back.”

“All in the past now,” he plays off. Mel doesn’t need to know that’s how the morphling stuff began. Pain management that then transformed into Everything management. That's what her life would be like if she won: an unsteady, treacherous diet of unhealthy coping mechanisms. “You did a good job in your interview. People love the family angle…great for sponsorships. Public investment.”

God, he sounded just like those Capitol assholes that Robby and him always complained about, who cared more about optics and performance and algorithms than anything real.

“I told the truth,” Mel mumbles, confused.

“Truth’s dangerous in a place like this. Authenticity’s a vulnerability. Protect it.”

“Did you?”

“No. I sold it.” Frank doesn’t mean to fumble with his wedding band—golden and opulent—but it’s a fidgeting compulsion he can’t shake and Mel’s attention fixes on his hands. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“Well, I need to survive all this first. Won’t mean much if I bleed out from an arrow in the shoulder.”

“Trident,” he corrects and fuck, she wasn’t suppose to know that, but…if this one piece of information gets her a little bit closer to home, then his mistake will be worth it. “Hope you can swim and catch fish.”

Because two days ago, Abby’s father called, bragging about the official Hunger Games tie-in deal he secured with this year’s gamemakers. Necklaces, bracelets, anklets, all designed to look like delicate fish scales against the skin. They will be all the rage in the districts. Sea chic.

Frank leans in close now, voice low against the celebratory cacophony of a post-tribute parade festivities: “Don’t drink the water. I have no clue what the game makers did to it, but it’s bad. Slowly liquifying organs from the inside bad.”

Mel doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, she nods, the lights of her costume winking back at him. Reflective in the lenses of her glasses. Why didn’t her team fix her eyesight? What might happen when those glasses get knocked off and she can’t see?

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me now. Make it out of there and then come find me.”

One District 6 tribute steps off their platform before the timer finishes its countdown and the other drowns in the first ten minutes. Years later—when someone asks him who they were—Frank will struggle to remember their names.

Mel knows how to swim and is more than careful not to inhale any water into her mouth. Eight tributes die in the first twenty-four hours; she is not one of them.

“Whose your favorite, babe?” Abby asks, curled up on their long, velvet sofa as Gloria’s face beams from the TV screen, recalling all the highlights from the first game day. “Now that your little ones are out of contention.”

Dead, Abs. They are dead for nothing besides your continued entertainment.

“You know I don’t play favorites with the other districts. Bad for business.”

“I think you like the District 3 girl. Mel? Reminds me of you. A lot of gumption. Grit. A little naive. She’ll be popular if she wins.”

I know and Frank will do anything to make sure she’s not.

#kingdon #langdonmel #melfrank #the pitt #my fic #ship: kingdon #tv: the pitt #lost steam on this a while ago but reworked the first part from a wip from years past and i’m strangely proud of it

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bonefall · 1 year ago

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Do you think the clan cats having less kits per litter/less litters in general (they already have less kits than real cats) would fix the bloated cast issue? Because I look at Ginga and the cast is also bloated and only a few characters have offspring but the author keeps making other dogs join Ohu and refuses to kill the old as fuck dogs

I don't think there's any one particular "solution" for stopping bloat in series that manage large casts through generations like Ginga or WC, it's actually a few things

The #1 MOST important thing I think about bloat, though, is that it's about a ratio of quality to quantity. NOT raw size.

A long while back I made a couple of allegiance lists for certain eras. In spite of my Clans having the same (or even higher!) population as canon, I NEVER struggled with those lists being bloated. If anything, sometimes if a Clan's below 30, they look too small.

(I'm sure you can find those lists if you look, they're probably tagged BB!Allegiance, but they might be a bit out of date)

That's because in BB, there's dozens of HUGE cultural additions to Clan life. In "administration," alone, there's 3 new major divisions of skills (hunting, cooking, construction) ALL with their own "head" of that patrol, plus canon's leader, deputy, and Cleric. Not to mention subtitles like the Educator and maybe a Chaperone/Permaqueen!

So to bring it back to that "Ratio Theory," If our Clan is 30 cats, those 8 major roles immediately give at least a slight amount of character to a little over 25% of our group, with each role being something that the other 75% of cats can desire and compete for.

Canon's measly 3 is 10%, and you can ONLY vy for deputyship if you want any power. There's nothing else to BE ambitious about.

You can make the ratio higher by having hobbies, drama, skills, arts, etc. Basically; characterize background characters! Which should be obvious!! Give them traits that are useful and interesting and show the community being valuable.

It won't feel like "bloat," it has the sense of communities living their lives. Even if they go quiet for a while, when they return (just look at how much people like seeing Sedgecreek or Hallowflight mentioned lmao) it feels like meeting an old friend again.

WAYS TO MAKE BLOAT FEEL WORSE;

Giving too many "opportunities" to old characters.

Think of every relevant role a cat gets as a meal, and the bigger the role the more they've eaten. If you're only giving value to your old fanfavs, you're not doing much for them because they're already full while the rest of your cast starves.

Haphazardly killing off characters.

I actually strongly resent the "trend" where people conflate good storytelling with an author's willingness to suddenly kill characters off. I think it comes from the same place as needing to "outsmart" your audience.

If you kill off a character with VALUE, an unfinished arc, interesting connections, it's just unsatisfying. The Erins have this problem of killing background characters with some established lore or value (like Harelight and Briarlight) while leaving uninteresting background nobodies behind that they never build back up.

Before killing a character, ask yourself what their role in the cast is, and their dynamic with others. Try not to axe them without a plan to fill that "role" and/or comment on their absence. Replace what you take.

EASY REPLACABILITY

This one is HUGE, this is why Ginga is so bad with this. If a bunch of dogs die, 100 random soldiers can replace them from somewhere. That is REALLY bad, because all the random influxes of new characters do not have a chance to replace what was lost.

It also makes death feel cheaper. Oh no! Background dog 7446 got eaten by the newest type of bear. This won't make battles harder to win or cause us to lose any valuable skills though. Also a new dog just walked in from offscreen.

Population Growth outpaces Death Rate

AKA your cast is growing too fast and you're not getting rid of old characters. This is what anon was asking about-- and it CAN help to make births less frequent and litters smaller. Make sure to pair with preventing lots of new, adult characters to casually wander in, too.

ALL of these tips have exceptions and places where they can (and should) be subverted and broken. But these are just things I think about

#Working with canon's population sizes is also fun to do #It really helps me prevent neglecting background characters if I have to pick someone to do--#--some skill or hobby from a limited cast #It's a good limitation. Can't just make new people out of nowhere #Bone babble #Bones gives advice

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mosneakers · 9 months ago

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Clementine: [staring at the screen in disbelief] This doesn't make any sense. She won… it's official. Kirsten: [with a heavy sigh] Well, I’ll be damned. You kids see the power you wield? You resurrected that Salas bunch, and now we’ve got a damn vampire in office. I'm telling you, it's that Darling family curse, it's no joke.

Salem: Yeah, no one's fucking laughing, mom.

Yellow: [Starts pacing, checking cell phone] Has anyone heard from Coraleye? It’s nearly 4 AM, and she hasn’t checked in. That’s not like her—especially after this long.

Donna, anxiously knitting on the sofa, turns to give her husband a loving glance, striving to keep her tone light and comforting. Donna: We needn't fret, love. She's likely off with Tycho, helping him get his mind off things like lovebirds do— hehe! Yellow: [Sighs] You’re probably right. I’ll give her more time before trying again. I do remember how it felt, being young and utterly smitten. [Grins and cheesily winks at Donna]

Salem: Disgusting.

Donna: You are! [Playfully sticks out tongue]

Seymour, thought to be asleep, croaks a laugh. Salem groans and leans forward, burying her head in her hands.

Out of nowhere, the Darling family landline rings, breaking the silence with a jolt. The unexpected sound causes even the family dog to yelp in surprise. Donna: Oh, heavens! It's alright, Mimsy, that's just the phone. Gave me a scare too; it hardly ever rings. Excuse me, I'll answer it.

Donna gently sets her knitting kit aside, then carefully maneuvers around the jumbled feet and dog, making her way to the foyer to tend to the ringing phone. Yellow tries his daughter’s cellphone once more, as Clementine nudges Salem with her leg. Clementine: What's wrong? Having doubts about resurrecting them? Salem: Of course not. Don’t be stupid. That was the only way I'd get you back. How was I supposed to know it'd get lead to this? She was so different all those years ago.

Donna, usually known for her bravery, suddenly cries out in distress from the foyer, causing Yellow to rush to her side, alarmed. Yellow: Donna, sweetheart! What's wrong? Who called? Donna: That was an officer from the city. We have to go pick up Coraleye right away! There's been a terrible accident. Yellow: What? What happened to her? Is she hurt?

Donna: She's safe, but it sounds like others may have been hurt, and she's rather quite shaken. They wouldn't elaborate, so I guess we'll learn more when we arrive. Oh! Let me just fetch my slippers!

Clementine: Shit, I’m pretty worried… should we tag along? Yellow: We’ll manage. Maybe you all stay here in case anything comes up here. Thanks, Clem. Mom— we'll be right back with Coraleye. Will you be alright getting Dad to bed? Kirsten: Yes, of course, hun. Just get my baby girl back home safe and soon.

Clementine: Ditto. Give her hugs and kisses for me. [Waits for Donna and Yellow to leave] What a crazy night. What do you think went down?

Salem: How should I know.

Clementine: Think it’s connected to Salas winning?

Salem: Most likely. And now that a psychotic vampire is in charge— this is just the beginning. Who knows what she's capable of?

Kirsten: You can say that again. How long is it gonna take before someone addresses that none of us mediums have been able to make contact with Jay Salas? I think the bitch killed her husband. Salem: Mom please, not now. Kirsten: Sorry! Just saying... I have my suspicions. Guess we'll save it for a later season.

Salem exhales heavily, clutching her scalp. Her gaze drifts to the glowing TV screen, where Tatiana's unsettling grin beams back, mocking her hesitation.

Salem: Ugh, fuck! I can’t believe I’m responsible for this fucking shitshow.

Clementine: [Brief silence, eyes transfixed on the screen] …You brought her into this realm.

Salem: …And I’m gonna have to take her out.

#ts4 #ts4 story #the sims 4 #sims 4 #MD4 #MD4season10 #Salem Darling #Clementine Darling #Donna Darling #Yellow Darling #Kirsten Darling #Seymour Darling #Tatiana Salas #Vampires #Brindleton Bay #md4s10finale

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intersexcat-tboy · 1 year ago

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Call me Whiskers or whatever idrc. This blog focuses on raising awareness, sharing personal experiences, and connecting with others in the intersex and ATM theory community. I love doing in depth research into topics, esp writing intersex educational essays. I am always learning. I tend to be very verbose as I'm hyperlexic, but I'm also dyslexic and dyscalculic so it's a struggle. While I am 21+, my account is not—occasional sex ed + kink discussion posts are tagged, and the latter are limited to interaction from adults.

Most everything goes onto queue, tho sometimes some things skip the wait. As I have several communication disorders, it will usually take me several business days (weeks) to respond to posts because I can only manage my phone in short bursts, work full time, and am bedbound when I get home.

I use oneself, none, e/ey, hy/hym and kit/fae pronouns

Schrodigender's catoffboy. Call me a catboy or don't call me a boy at all. [PT: Call me a catboy or don't call me a boy at all, in bold /end PT]. I use it as an omninoun (link). I may occasionally use masc language for myself but I do not identify as a man. [PT: I do not identify as a man, in bold /end PT]. I'm not a man or a woman. Not your bro, not your sis. I am a SW and have done FSSW

I prefer not to be gendered or sexed by others at all, but I permit it sporadically from mutuals. I do not perform gender on the daily. Linaricgender and IntersexErrgender. Antanaver, obscurique, maintric. Neutroix tfemneumasc. TNC and ANC hermaphrodyke, hard femme, transfem guything. (s)t4t sapphillean tranny until I die

DNI/beware of cat:

I write essays for fun.

Death, violent, rape threats / jokes, and suibait will not be tolerated. Neither will any form of bigotry—this means racism, ableism, sanism, classism, and queerphobia (including homophobia, inter+exorsexism, + forms of transphobia [transmisogyny, anti-transmasculinity, transmed / exclusionist beliefs, and transX/transID claims like “transitioning to intersex / Black / harmful / etc”]). I'm critical of TransID rhetoric and support alternative terminology. Individuals who use the belligerent language of bigots—"misandrodork," "theyfab," or "transandrobro"—will be blocked on sight. This is not a space welcoming to rad/LSD/basedqueer ideals or forms of fe/male separatism or superiority—namely MGTOW, masculinists, radfem, febfem, and perisex self-identified bæddels. Following or heavily reblogging from Plaidos (a known transphobe) or Strawberry-Crocodile (a known intersexist) forfeits the presumption of good faith due to the consistent lack of it on their accounts. Support for the Israeli government and its actions conflicts with the Land Back principles and other anti colonial values held in this space

Well what about [XYZ]?

Individuals with BIID where their dysphoria is centered around the physical body rather than "not being disabled" are perfectly fine and welcomed here. I do not mind those with alters who understand that their body does not hold the responsibilities of enduring oppressions their marginalized alter would face (and thus will not be fully capable of understanding oppression regarding that minority), who do not describe their discomfort as being "transrace", and uplift voices of the minorities rather than speaking over ("I have a black/trans/IS/disabled alter so I get to decide what's bigoted" 👎)

More about me:

I was UAAB and grew up as a trans girl, but now I'm growing into something else. I'm CTN and legally TMA, but don't use it as binaries (especially ones based on birth assignment "privilege") do not reflect my intersex experience, nor is oppression based solely on internal identity, but rather influenced by your material conditions and how you are perceived. I was raised a feminist and became a transfeminist before I ever came out. Antigonist

I've been transitioning for over a decade as someone who is ambigonadal with pAIS. I was part of the transgender craze seducing your daughters before Abigail Shrier even started taking notes. I've been called a bæddel since before Tumblr discovered it. I have survived and prevailed through a forced detransition. I've had more than a handful of people consider me a queer elder. I will remove you as a follower if I catch you being an ass in my notifs to someone I've responded to

I'm autistic, part of a small medically adaptive, disassociative, biconscious atrium collective (the ToeBemStones), and am disabled on many levels. I use mobility aids daily and struggle to get anywhere without them due to my numerous musculoskeletal and soft tissue deformities, along with FND. I also have exfoliative keratolysis. Cripplepunk and radinclu

I don't mind spam likes/reblogs, but be aware that coming back onto here to a bunch of notifs may startle me. I'm really weird abt compliments and tend to get overwhelmed. If we're mutuals and you unfollow, please soft block me

Some posts:

Examining Sax's .018% claim (link)

No One Can Produce Both Sperm and Eggs? Think Again. (link)

Unpacking the Ethics of “Tboy Strap” (link)

Some Tags:

#purrspectives for posts I've written or heavily added to. May occasionally contain others posts if I completely agree w them and have no better way to convey

#transparency for criticism and #testimonials for praise

#actually intersex / #actually autistic

#intersex issues / #transmasc issues / #trans issues

if you don't want to see my direct responses to discussions, mute #unraveling, or #deconstruction for broader unraveling

To avoid discourse in general, mute: #intercommunity discourse and #trans discourse

#queer solidarity / #trans solidarity

#intersex history / #transmasc history / #trans history / #queer history

#ableism / #exorsexism

#intersexism / #trans intersexism for posts regarding intersexism from perisex trans people

#intersex theory / #trans theory

#intersex erasure / #transmasc erasure

#antitransmasculinity / #anti transmasculinity / #transandrophobia / #transandromisia

#disability justice

#system stuff

#trans tag / #trans / #trans positivity

#autistic tag

#intro post #blog intro #intro

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sleepyfan-blog · 10 months ago

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Introductions

Author’s Note: This is the next part of Cedric’s adventures in the Husbandry AU! A big thanks to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her ocs Arnault, Roland, Angela and Backerin! Masterlist here

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@c-u-c-koo-4-40k

Warnings: Mentions of Petras and his bullshit, please ask me to tag something if I missed it/somethign bothers you

Summary: Cedric introduces Pallius and Olivar to Roland, Arnault and their bonded humans.

“Olivar, Pallius how are you doing today?” Cedri asked curiously as he watched how two still-healing Brothers carefully stretch and limber up for the low-intensity physical training class that they were going to be participating in later today.

“... Pretty good. Why? Are they going to torment us with some other kinds of boring, basic exercises while not letting us outside of the base?” Olivar grumbled, a surly frown appearing on his face as he slowly eased himself through the leg stretches that he’d been ordered to use. Why the micromanaging bastards thought all of this was necessary when he’d been left to tend punishment-inflicted wounds on his own before, and had managed well enough on his own, thank you very much… The young Black Templar did not know. On the other hand, Cedric did say that his wounds had killed him in M42.

“Are they concerned that Ancient Terra is so perilous that we need to be at our absolute best, when outside of the base? I know the legends say that cruel and mad sorcerer-kings fought over dominion of HOly Terra for years uncounted before He smote them and the false idols they worshipped as Gods… But I thought that had been during The Long Night… Has Humanity already scattered across the stars?” Pallius asked, his blue-brown eyes shining with curiosity and nervousness in equal measure.

Cedric hesitated before answering “THe chief apothecary is limiting your movements in order to ensure that you both are healing correctly. There… As for the dangers of Ancient Holy Terra… The most dangerous threat to us as Astartes are the similarly time-displaced renegade and Heretic Astartes. However their witch-bond connection to the Warp is significantly reduced, and using the Warp for unnatural acts is much harder. In part due to the fact that the Eye of Terror does not exist at this point in time. At this time, only Holy Terra holds Humanity.”

“.. Does that mean that there are only three major ruinous powers at the moment?” Olivar asked, straightening out of his stretch, a curious expression appearing on his face “Why do our hosts -who are allegedly loyalists too, suffer traitors and worse to live? The heretics could corrupt the mortals of this time. Why would they allow-” Olivar stood up, agitated and worried, starting to pace around “Is that why you’re being so cautious in what you tell us, Cedric? What… what bargains have you made in order to ensure that the supplies and time we are luxuriating in using to heal?”

Cedric blinked, reaching out to try and placate his easily riled brother “There are maybe upwards of five-hundred thousand Astartes total on Ancient and Holy Terra. There are less than ten billion mortals total on Ancient Terra. Luna and Mars have yet to be colonized… Much less the Jovian shipyards and supporting moon colonies to be built. I have been told that should an all-out war happen between the different Astartes factions, it would only devastate humanity in it’s infancy and sabotage everything we stand for and wish to protect.”

“And what about the heretics and their corrupting natures? Or have the firstborns who run things not told you?” Pallius chimed in, visibly concerned. He had also stopped stretching, the information his brother was telling them was too important not to give his full and undivided attention to.

Cedric sighed “I have been told that there is a treaty in place that goes over those questions and a great many other concerns. Chaos and Witchery in general is much more difficult to use and reach here and now. I’ve been told this repeatedly… And both Claude and Jophiel agree with that, that Witchery is much harder to use.”

“Who else is here, that we know?” Oliver asked curiously, mind racing. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted the information about Witchery, but he could tell that Cedric was telling him the truth as he knew it.

“Alive? Ramiel, Olly, and…” Cedric swallowed hard “Chaplain captain Petras. The Honorable Chaplain leads a small band of Firstborn Brothers and wanders as the God Emperor wills them to. Dead? Malachai and Lestras. THey also arrived on Ancient Terra Badly injured… Unfortunately, they were too injured to survive their wounds, despite best efforts to keep them alive.”

The three of them weren’t the only ones in this training room - there were about a dozen or so injured Firstborn Brother-Cousins in groups of three to six, being monitored by an apothecary or well-trained mortal as they stretched and went about their exercises. The chance that their conversation might be overheard was very high, so the young Apothecary was trying to hint to his fellow Primaris Brothers to choose their words carefully without saying or signing such outright, and potentially get more scrutiny placed on them. Cedric had already been dodging the questions about why and how so many of the primaris Black Templars were arriving on Ancient Terra with the same kinds of injuries and state of near-death.

“Ugh. Of course he is here. Is he as much of a heavy-handed bastard here as he is at home?” Olivar asked with the tact the God-Emperor gave a buzzfly.

Cedric silently whispered a prayer of protection, grace and patience before answering with as much neutrality as he could conjure in his voice “Olivar… Your bluntness gets you into trouble… Please take care with how you speak.”

Pallisu whacked Olivar on the back of the head lightly at the same time “Olivar! You can’t say that out loud about a chaplain! You’re going to get all of us doing penitent punishment for weeks, if not longer.”

“I want my question answered!” Olivar pouted, glaring up at both of them “And you both know I”m right about him.”

“... I haven’t had the opportunity to interact with him directly yet. I haven’t been on Ancient Terra for very long, and he rarely visits this base.” Cedric hedged before changing the subject “However there are a couple of firstborn Brothers who live here in town. I like and respect them both quite a bit.”

“... Like you respect Apothecary Xonfreid… Or like us and Ramel?” Pallisu asked, covering his mouth with one hand as he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper. Uncertain hope flickered across his face.

“Hrmph. Just who are these Older Brothers? Why do they stay in one place?” Olivar huffed, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“Battle Brother Roland Lichtner is bonded to Miss Becky, who is very nice. She makes baked goods for a living. Do you remember the brot that I shared with you two last week?” Cedric began, suppressing a mischievous grin with difficulty.

“That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. Of course I remember the bread.” Olivar answered, wistful “I want more…”

“Yeah, the taste! The texture! It was almost overwhelming in a good way. You called it sourdough?” Pallius answered, grinning.

“Miss Becky made that loaf of sourdough herself.” Cedric revealed. “As for the other Older Brother… He is bonded to Miss Angela. She’s a quiltmaker and I think a seamstress as well? Do you remember that weighted quilt that I brought over for us to huddle together under during the thunderstorm yesterday?”

“Yeah.” Pallius answered quietly.

Olivar nodded silently, shuddering a little at the memory of the horrible sounds that the thunder had made. “Wait… The renowned sniper, Roland Lichtner?”

Pallius’ eyes widened. He had been undergoing training in M42 as a Sniper -while Glorious Melee was best, he had a steady aim and a good eye - and besides. The Cowardly Xenos and bastard Heretics used long-range, and so a certain number of Brothers were chosen to learn to use similar but sanctified weapons in order to pick them off before they downed their melee brothers. “He… He lives here?” He saw the other as an exemplar of what it was to be a Black Templar Sniper.

“He does! In the town, not specifically on base.” Cedric explained, a grin on his face, watching Pallius’ eyes light up with awe and delight.

“You mentioned a second Firstborn Brother? And his… Bonded? What do you mean by bonded?” Olivar asked curiously.

Cedric quickly explains what he understands of Bonding, before revealing “Miss Angela is bonded to Brother Arnault Wach. She’s the one who made that lovely quilt.”

“As… As in Emperor’s Champion Arnault Wach?” Olivar asked, his voice a startled squeak.

Cedric nodded, still grinning “Do you want to meet them? I’ve been given permission to take the two of you off base and to meet brothers Roland und Arnault and their bonded?”

“... Today? Now-ish?” Olivar asked, voice still shaky, eyes wide.

Cedric nodded “We’d have to walk over to where they are, but ja. I was thinking we’d go to the Bakery first, talk to bruder Roland und his Bonded, get something to eat - don’t worry, I have enough local currency for the three of us and then head over to Bruder Arnault’s und his Bonded’s home.” He looked them both other “Unless you’re not feeling up to it? They want to meet you. Oh! We’re not supposed to tell Brother Arnault he’s an Emperor’s Champion, as he was pulled from a time before he became one.”

“Oh… That makes sense.” Pallius hummed, nodding a little. “I’d like to shower first, and change into the nicer set of civilian clothes that were given to me, but otherwise I’m ready to meet them.”

Olivar nodded “I would like a bit of time to prepare, but I am ready to face - er. Meet them today as well.”

Cedric nodded, smiling a little. He’d asked Ramiel if he wanted to come on this trip too, but the young Judicar was busy with training today. “Alright. Meet you at the front desk in an hour?”

The other two Primaris Black Templars agreed, before heading off to their assigned rooms to get clean and changed.

It was a pleasantly sunny day, and Cedric was unsurprised to find that the bakery had a line of eager and hungry mortals waiting to purchase their baked goods that stretched out of the door. He gestured for Pallius and Olivar to join him at the back of the line, humming a little to himself.

Thankfully, despite the length of the line, it moved swiftly, and soon the three Primaris Marines found themselves within the charmingly decorated and mouth-wateringly delicious smelling shop. Many of the baked goods had been sold out, but what was remaining still looked and smelled amazing.

The mortal behind the payment counter spotted the three of them and briefly headed into the back of the shop, followed back into the main room by Roland, who smiled a little as he spotted Cedric, his gaze looking over the other two Pimaris Marines curiously. He walked over to the three of them and murmured “Hallo Cedric Are these two Olivar und Pallius?”

Cedric nodded, beaming as he gently laid a hand on the slightly shaking Pallius’ shoulder “Ja! This is Pallius.” he paused for a moment before nudging Olivar “Und this is Olivar.”

Neither one of his fellow Primaris Brothers spoke for several seconds, their eyes wide, their breathing fast and shallow. Cedric silently nudged both of them and Pallius spoke up first “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Cedric had us try some of the sourdough that is made and sold here. It’s very good.”

Roland’s eyes lit up “A fellow bread lover! Ja, mein beloved’s broten has no equal in this or any other world! Come, follow me, the three of you. She has been just as curious about the two of you as I have been. She is busily working away, kneading.”

“Yessir.” Olivar and Pallius answered at the same time, dutifully following after the Older Brother.

Cedric grinned as he followed them as well, calling out as soon as they were close “Hallo miss Becky!”

The short human woman set down the bag of flour that she’d been carrying and rushed over, hugging him as best as she could manage “Hello, Cedric! Are these your newly arrived brothers?”

Cedric nodded, beaming “Ja! This is Pallius und this is Olivar.” He explained, gesturing to his brothers in turn, gently hugging her back.

She let him go and went up on her tiptoes, peering up at the two newcomers “You two certainly do look like Cedric’s brothers. Come closer, please. I promise not to bite.”

“Careful, my love. They are both injured from whatever they’d been up to before they arrived here on Terra. I believe that Pallius has fractured ribs, und the reason why Olivar is holding his left arm like that is because of broken bones as well.” Roland hummed, staring directly at Cedric as he said that.

Cedric could hear the silent question in the older Black Templar’s voice, but he needed to talk privately with his fellow Primaris marines before they decided what it was they were going to tell the others here. “They are well enough to take short trips out of the base, though.”

Olivar was the first to move closer to the mortal woman, both guarded and curious “Hallo miss Becky. Your sourdough is very tasty. What are those pale lumps of matter you were squishing when we came in?”

She gave him a quick side hug before taking a half-step back “That’s called a dough… Olivar, is it?” Miss Becky gives a quick explanation as to what dough is, and the process of turning dough into bread, a slight blush appearing on her face as she finished with a quiet “Ah… My apologies. You probably didn’t want that much information about such things…”

Pallius looked genuinely fascinated, and Olivar had drifted over to one of the lumps of dough, a focused expression on his face.

“Please don’t say that! I was finding your lecture to be both interesting and quite informative! We weren’t taught how to make food like this - basic foraging, yes. But nothing so technical.” Pallius answered, blue-brown eyes shining with fascination.

“So you just.. Squish the bread? Und it makes it stronger and tastier?” Olivar clarified, looking very much like he was seconds away from poking one of the lumps of dough sitting out on the counter with a finger.

“If you want to help knead the dough, you must first wash your hands und ask.” Roland drawled, walking over and lightly nudging Olivar over to the sink “Would you mind if the ducklings helped us for a little while?”

“Not in the least! Their help would be quite timely, given the massive line of people we have out of the door, and the dough that requires kneading.” Miss Becky answers with a sigh “If you three are willing to help, of course. If you don’t want to, I won’t insist.”

“But we want to help.” Cedric, Pallius and Olivar answered at the same time, turning to peer hopefully down at the mortal baker.

Cedric paused for a moment before saying “I can show them how to use not too much of their strength, and cause the dough to tear - und how to mold it into two pieces, if it does accidentally tear.”

Miss Becky beamed and nodded “Thanks, Cedric! You’re a lifesaver. Now I’ve got to get these croissants in the oven.” One of the timers went off, startling Olivar and Pallius with the loudness.

Roland went over to the oven and pulled out several very hot loaves of bread, setting them carefully on the cooling rack “I will help with that, mein schatz.”

Cedric gestured for Pallius and Olviar to join him at the sink, showing them how to properly wash their hands in order to get ready for kneading the dough. He showed them the proper technique, letting them get a feel for the strength required for the repetitive task, and what they were looking for, for when the bread was ready to be baked.

Both Olivar and Pallius listened and watched carefully, doing their best to mimic what he was doing.

Miss Becky had been kind enough to give them a loaf of freshly cooled banana bread for the three of them to share, after the couple of hours they had spent kneading loaf after loaf of bread into being ready to be cooked, cooled and sold.

Cedric had texted Arnault as the three of them were leaving the bakery on the communication device he’d been given [We are on our way. Do I need to to give you some more time?]

Cedric was well aware of the fact that Arnault loved his bonded very much, and enjoyed flirting with and touching her whenever he could get away with it. Sometimes that would escalate and Arnault would steal away his bonded to kiss and do… Things with her that the young Apothecary had only heard of in theory and did not want to think about in depth in conjunction with his honored elder brother, thank you very much. Also Arnault had asked him to text before hand for those kinds of reasons.

[Mein Engel and I are ready for guests. She is finishing up a project for a client, und I am helping her by holding up the last part of what needs sewing together. The front door is unlocked, just knock before coming in.] Arnault answered promptly.

Cedric nodded to himself on instinct as he sent back [Understood. We should be there in twenty minutes or so.]

Cedric led Olivar and Pallius to Arnault’s and Angela’s home, pausing at the front door, realizing that both of them were standing and staring at the house from the sidewalk. He sighed silently and walked back over to his brothers, voice gentle and coaxing “We’re nearly there. He’s a wonderful big brother, I promise.”

“He… He’s an Emperor’s Champion… Well, will be, from his standpoint. Are… Are we worthy to be in his presence?” Pallius asked, uncertainty causing his voice to shake a little.

Olivar shuffled alongside Pallius, unwilling to voice his own concerns, but nodding along to what Pallius said.

Cedric took in a deep breath and gently held one of Olivar’s and Pallius’ hands, squeezing gently, and answered “We are worthy. Each of us is as valuable as a firstborn brother of our rank and standing. He’s looking forward to meeting you, as is his bonded. I wouldn’t ask you to meet someone who I don’t trust while you’re still healing.”

“... Okay. Let’s do this, then.” Olivar answered, a determined expression appearing on his face as he took in a deep breath and did his best to center himself.

Pallius nodded, taking a couple of moments to center himself as well before saying “Okay… I’m ready. Let’s… Let’s go meet them, then.”

Cedric nodded, smiling encouragingly at his brothers as he led them over to the front door, knocking and then entering as he’d been asked. He informed the other two “It’s considered rude to walk around in their home walking in the shoes that we were walking around outside in. Outside shoes go in this bin over here, and there are guest slippers here, unless you want to walk around barefoot, or in your socks, both of which are acceptable as well.” he took off his own shoes and put them away properly, content to meander about the house in his socks.

Pallius and Olivar obediently took off their shoes and placed them in the correct bin. Neither elected to take a pair of the astartes-sized guest slippers and Olivar also took off his socks, pairing them and placing them in his shoes, so that they wouldn’t get lost.

Cedric called out “We’re here!” loud enough so that his voice would carry throughout the house, while also not being too loud so as to accidentally cause alarm.

“Come on in!” Miss Angela called out, closer than he’d anticipated her voice to sound “Arnault and I are in the living room, finishing up a project. Please don’t step on the fabric, when you come into the room.”

“Yes ma’am.” Cedric responded, smiling a little as he carefully led his brothers into the living room, carefully picking his way over to where she was sitting and sewing - Arnault carefully holding onto the fabric she was stitching together in order to help keep it steady. “This is Pallius - he’s the one with the slightly darker eyes and hair - and this is Olivar. He’s shorter and -”

“I am less than five inches shorter than the both of you!” Olivar sulked, sending a grumpy pout Cedric’s way “I am well within standard parameters. The fact that I am more compact only means that I can move in more cramped areas better than you two.”

“- grumpy.” Cedric finished with a teasing grin on his face.

“I’d offer you boys some tea, but I’m a little busy at the moment, and so is Arni.” Angela responded, looking up from her work and looking at the three of them. “Goodness! Look how lovely you all are. And there’s no shame in being shorter than others, Olivar. Don’t let the talls bully you! You’re wonderful just the way you are.”

Olivar - who had started to wind up at Cedric’s gentle teasing - deflated a little, blinking in utter shock and mild surprise, struck silent by her words.

Pallius blinked twice and took a half-step forward to cover his Brother’s shock “I’m sure Vie will thank you for your words once he finds his tongue again. None of us have much experience interacting with baselines, and Olivar is not great at making first impressions.”

“Hey! I am… Adequate at socialization!” Olivar pouted, content to be half-hidden behind his larger brothers. He was trying not to be overwhelmed and mostly succeeding.

“Ja, of course you are, Vie.” Cedric hummed, gently patting his grumpy brother a little, trying to suppress the grin that threatened to appear on his face. “I could start the electric kettle, if you wanted?” He offered.

“That would be lovely, thank you Cedric. It’s in it’s usual spot in the kitchen.” Miss Angela answered with a smile. She then looked to Olivar and Pallius “Please, come sit down, there are a couple of chairs not buried under fabric you can use.”

“Yes ma’am.” Pallius murmured, carefully moving so as to not disturb the fabric in the room.

Olivar fidgeted a little. One of his legs was still on the mend and he had a slim cast that fit under the clothes he was wearing. He wasn’t sure if he had the dexterity to make it across the room without stumbling over the fabric and didn’t want to get into trouble, so he stayed at the entrance of the room. He did lean against the door frame on his good leg. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll stay here.”

“If you’re sure… There are a couple of chairs free…” Miss Angela pointed out.

“I don’t mind standing, ma’am.” Olivar answered, which was a partial truth.

Arnault hummed a little “There is a sturdy enough folding chair in the closet in the hallway you walked through. Sit, lad. I can smell the pain you’re in from your broken leg.”

Angela gasped a little, a worried frown on her face “You walked all the way here on a broken leg without crutches? Honey, do we have any astartes-grade painkiller? You must be so sore, you poor dear. Hang on, let me move some of this fabric out of the way, so you can sit properly.”

“I… Uhm. I’ll be fine, ma’am. I don’t want to interrupt your work.” Olivar deflected awkwardly.

“Nonsense! It’s easier if the quilt is all laid out like this, but it isn’t strictly necessary. Arni, love, help me move things?” Angela tutted, shaking her head a little.

Arnault nodded, knowing how and where to move the fabric to, before giving Olivar a quick once over and a quiet order “Come here and sit down, Olivar.” He made sure that his voice was gentle, but firm, to brook no argument from foolish apprentices.

“Yes sir.” Olivar responds, obediently reacting to the tone of command, doing his best to move as carefully as he could manage, sitting down on the far edge of the couch. Some of the pain leaving him, as he was able to get his weight off of his injured leg. “What is it that you are making?” Olivar asked, curiously as he looked at the fabric around him. It looked to be deliberately and expertly stitched together, some of it dyed different colors in a lovely pattern.

Miss Angela grinned as she briefly looked to Arnault before answering “I am making a weighted quilt. I recently finished making one, and this one should be finished by the end of the month. What do you two think of this one?”

Pallius answered first and earnestly “I think your client is very lucky to receive this uilt. I can tell this is expertly made, and the quality is so much better than the thin blankets we were allotted aboard The Sigismund.”

Olivar nodded in agreement “I can’t imagine the time and effect that you put into making this. It is a beautiful piece of art, ma’am.”

Miss Angela seemed to lose the ability to speak for several seconds, blinking rapidly before setting down the needle and finely spun thread and reached out to gently cup one of Olivar’s cheeks “That is such a sweet thing to say, both of you, thank you.”

“Yeah… Cedric’s so lucky to have one of these…” Pallius sighed “It was so comfortable to snuggle together, during the thunderstorm yesterday. Olivar and I were still pretty out of it and…”

“The thunder reminded us of artillery fire in the worst ways. Bad memories and heavy pain killers are an awful combination.” Olivar grumbled, pouting a little though he leaned into her gentle touch, trying to blink back treacherous tears that threatened to fall. He’d never been touched this gently by someone who wasn’t a Brother or a Cousin before and he had no idea how to react. He had no idea how much a quilt like the one Cedric had cost, but he planned on getting money and the supplies necessary to create such a thing and ask Miss Angela to make one for him. Cedric would probably know what to get and how much it cost. Ramiel too, as both of them had those wonderful quilts. He planned on asking for one for Pallius first, as a surprise gift for his only surviving squadmate.

Cedric came back into the room with one mortal sized mug and four astartes sized mugs in his hands, along with several bright orange fruits that smelled sweet. “I’ve got drinks and a snack for everyone.” He passed both the fruits and the mugs around,c careful to avoid stepping on the fabric.

Pallius curiously inspected the orange fruit that he’d been given. It had bright, smooth skin and smelled faintly sweet and floral. He didn’t recognize it at all “What is this?” He asked curiously as he brought the fruit up to his lips and carefully took a small bite.

“These are persimmons. They should taste sweet and have a slight drying effect on the tongue.” Arnault explained, an amused smirk appearing on the older Black Templar’s face as he took a bite of the fruit.

Olivar was put off by the slightly grainy texture of the flesh of the fruit, and the flavor was odd to him as well. But everyone else seemed to be enjoying their fruit and he wasn’t one to turn down food when it was offered to him freely, so he quickly ate the rest of the persimmon, washing down the taste and texture with the tannic-tasting tea. It was amazing to learn just how much variety of foods there was on ancient and holy Terra… And overwhelming to the young Astartes, who was used to the carefully created and bland tasting nutrient pastes, ration bars and similar such food-stuffs that were made to sustain the Adeptus Astartes.

“Is the persimmon not to your liking, Olivar?” Miss angela asked, sounding concerned.

Olivar blanked in surprise. He’d tried to keep his mild distaste for the strange fruit from being obvious. “It’s… Very different from what I’m used to, ma’am. But I did finish it.” Olivar answered, resisting the temptation to fidget with the mug in his hands.

“Persimmons can be an acquired taste. I was given these by a neighbor who has a persimmon tree that is fruiting heavily this year. I’ve also seen the start of the Zucchini Shenanigans season earlier this week.” Angela hummed, smiling a little.

“I will be on guard, to ensure that we are not ambushed by too many squash. THey are tasty, but too many at once to eat before they spoil is… Vexing.” Arnault rumbled shaking his head a little.

Pallius silently wondered what the two of them were referring to. He looked to Olivar silently, who shrugged, equally confused before they both silently looked to Cedric, in hopes that he would offer them some kind of explanation.

“Free, fresh vegetables are always welcome at the base, should you be gifted with more zucchini than you can eat before it goes bad.” The young apothecary offered “Also miss Becky recently taught me how to make zucchini bread, which I find to be quite tasty, though on the sweet side.”

“Was that the soft brown bread with the spices you fed us earlier this week?” Olivar asked curiously, eyes widening in recognition. “You made like… Ten loaves of the stuff and we had to hide them from nosy firstborn brothers while they cooled, so that they could be used in trade.”

“Those were indeed Zucchini bread.” Cedric confirmed with a small grin.

“What did you end up trading that Zucchini bread for, anyways?” Pallius asked curiously, head tilting a little at his apothecary Brother “You mentioned that you’d made them specifically to be used in trade, which is why we hid them from hungry Older Brothers.”

Cedric’s eyes shone brightly with a playful kind of mischief “Something that I wanted and knew I could get with the proper application of sweet tasting breads.”

“I suppose that’s Cedric for “I’m not gonna tell you” then?” Olivar grumbled, pouting a little “Is there a particular reason you won’t tell us? Or are you practicing Secret Keeping?”

Cedric chuckled, his eyes still shining brightly with playful mischief “I’m not telling~! If you need to find out, you will in time.”

“Fine.” Pallius sighed, pouting a little that Cedric wouldn’t tell them but not willing to try and push the issue… At least not in front of the firstborn and his bonded.

“... Why would you need to practice keeping secrets?” Miss Angela asked curiously, as she had finished eating her persimmon and had gone back to stitching the quilt together.

All three young Astartes looked at one another uncertainly before looking to Brother Arnault. They weren’t quite sure what parts of astartes training they were allowed to speak of, and what was to be kept silent on.

Arnault chuckled “Basic astartes training leaves many young ones to be quite blunt und direct with their words and methods of speaking. Some missions require a degree of… Hrm. Subtlety and discretion, so we have the young ones practice how to Keep Secrets with low-stakes items and information that they are told to hide for a certain length of time, so that they know how to do so when it matters.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose that makes sense…” Angela hummed, nodding a little. “How long have you two been on Earth?”

“... I’m not sure, ma’am. But not longer than a month or two at most? I was brought to the base pretty badly injured because of… Uhm. Reasons, and I’ve been in recovery after they stitched my wounds closed, ma’am.” Pallius answered, shifting a little “This is the first time I’ve left the base since arriving, actually.”

Olivar nodded “I think I've been here for about three weeks at most? Maybe a month, by the way you figure the days and nights.” It was by unspoken agreement that they were not going to explain precisely how and why they had acquire their grievous wounds - the firstborns had assumed that they’d been nearly killed by Chaos Astartes from the kinds of weapons their wounds had been inflicted by… Which while untrue, was close enough to the truth to be functional. “From what little I have seen of Ter-err Earth, it’s a beautiful world.”

“It can be a beautiful place to live… Though I can’t help but wonder what it’s like to wander the stars, as Arni has occasionally told me he’s done. What’s it like to explore other worlds?” Angela asked, a soft sigh leaving her.

The three Primaris marines glanced at each other before looking to Arnault, unsure how to answer her question, each shifting uncomfortably. While it was possible that some of the many worlds that they had visited during their tenure as Astartes had once been beautiful, most of that beauty had been blasted and perverted into misery and suffering by the enemy they had been sent to fight.

“We’re not supposed to talk about what we did before we came to Earth, my love.” Arnault reminded her, voice gentle as he gave his Angela a kiss on the lips that caused all three of his baby brothers to fluster and turn away, to give them a bit of privacy, their ears burning bright red.

Angela kissed him back, a soft hum in her voice “Very well then, I won’t ask more about it. I wouldn’t want to get any of you into trouble for prying into your mysterious pasts.”

Cedric’s phone chimed, as a reminder went off. He looked at the notification and sighed “Vie, Palli, we need to get going back to base soon, or they’ll start sending out search parties for us and we’ll be grounded for wandering around too long without a check-in.”

Olivar grumbled “Can’t we check in via vox?”

Cedric shook his head “No, we need to check-in in-person, because you and Pallius are injured.”

Pallius sighed and nodded “Very well then. I suppose it makes sense…” He got up and saluted Arnault and Miss Angela on instinct “Thank you for your time, tea and the fruit.” He started to carefully make his way across the floor.

Olivar also got up and saluted the two of them, hiding the pained wince as his weight was partially on his broken leg once again “Thank you sir, ma’am.” and hobbled out of the room as gracefully as he could manage.

“Alright, you boys stay safe, alright?” Miss Angela answered with a small smile and a nod, leaning a little into Brother Arnault as she spoke.

“Heal well, und try not to get into too much mischief. At least not without me or Roland present.” The Emperor’s Champion hummed, a small smile on his face as he held his Bonded lovingly.

“Yes sir! We’ll try to stay out of trouble, sir!” Cedric chirped for his brothers, stepping so that he was helping Olivar and Pallius move without it being abundantly obvious.

Arnault snorted a little “Uh-huh. No fist fighting Chaos Cowards out of armor, Cedric.”

Cedric pouted a little as Olivar and Pallius looked at him curiously “That was one time, big bruder!”

“Ah-huh.” Arnault answered, still smirking a little as the three apprentices made their way out of his and his beloved’s home.

Cedric helped Pallius and Olivar get back to base, making sure to insist that they sit on benches that were occasionally near the sidewalk, so that they could give their still-healing bodies a break. He also dutifully recounted his encounter with the Slaaneshi Bastard and his reasoning behind tackling the fucker and duct-taping empty glass jars to his poison-dripping fingertips.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #my writing #space marine husbandry #black templars #oc: cedric #oc: olivar #oc: pallius

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mogruith · 5 months ago

Text

OC Deep Dive Tag

Thanks for tagging me @majorasnightmare!! This was a really awesome thinking exercise. It took me way longer than it should've to finish (work has been a lot lately) but I finally did it.

No pressure tags for @susann-noir @nemo-of-house-hamartia @mystxmomo @autisticdrizzt @twilight-sanctuary @albweado @moonshine-over-troubled-water any OC of your choice.

Phobias and Other Fears

Being alone. Or being far from his sister for extended periods. He's had his twin sister by his side his whole life and they've always looked out for each other. When she's not near him, it's as if he's lost a sense or a limb. He's managed this a few times but he absolutely hates it. Stagnation. Improve or perish. Climb that ladder, boy. For like actual phobias, I feel like I should mention his fear of Lolth but I think it's eclipsed by his anger. That said, spiders get the side-eye. But I'm not sure I'd call it a phobia.

Pet Peeves

Slow decision making and waffling. If you need to draw out a plan and take the time to do it, that's one thing. If you are indecisive, Coranzan is going get impatient and try to take over. Yes, he's kind of a dick. Additionally, talking down to him/being patronizing/dismissive.

3 items you could find in their bedroom

Coranzan keeps very little besides his armor, high-quality clothing, and a couple instruments - but those are boring things to list. There'd be items that allude to his vanity - an elaborate grooming kit, scented oils, and white dye that Z'ress uses to paint on Coran's forehead markings. Bonus: You'd also find a box of silver and moonstone knickknacks collected by his sister and donated to him. She tends to get sticky fingers and then gives some of the Eilistraee-adjacent items to him as something of an offering as a lay-worshipper. As they're seen as gifts from Eilistraee, he wears or keeps them until he can find a temple to offer them.

First thing they notice in a person

Probably a common answer but eyes are the window to the soul. Although he grew up avoiding eye contact, he has discovered the power in keeping his gaze locked on another's. Whether he's searching them to detect if they're enjoying a story he's telling or if they're lying, it's been beneficial skill.

On a scale of 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

I'd say something like a 7-8 or so. Pretty high pain tolerance but not absurdly so. I think it kind of came with the territory of some of his past work.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Fight for sure. Coranzan is fairly good at assessing the field and determining a path forward in a time-sensitive situation. It's not always the best or the safest path but it IS a well-reasoned path in a dire situation. The big picture/large scope planning belongs to his sister.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

A big family? No, at least he's not aware of most of whoever might exist outside his immediate family. But connected to his immediate family? Absolutely. Besides being tied at the hip with his twin sister, Z'ress, he's also very close to his parents. His parents' faith were inspiration to his path of becoming a Cleric of Eilistraee. He also has a grandmother who has managed to survive long enough to still be in his life and an uncle on his father's side that they're close with.

What animal represents them best?

The only animal I've ever thought about is night-singing birds like blackbirds and nightingales: I feel like Coranzan liked hearing them at night when he first came to the surface and became really fond of them. Also, I feel like we've all envied a bird's ability to fly away from whatever situation they're in.

What is a smell that they dislike?

The smell of exhaust and lubricants from machines and mechanical constructs like the Steel Watch. Coran hadn't encountered very many of these kind of creatures before, but encountering so many in Baldur's Gate resulted in a strong dislike of the smell.

Have they broken any bones?

Coran is a pretty nimble person but also has a tendency to go pretty hard on whatever new skill he's obsessed with. So I'll say he's probably broken a bone or two in his time but he's pretty good at avoiding it usually.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

A stranger would likely get the aloof version of Coranzan. Unless he needed something of that stranger, then he'd turn on the charm. The aloof version of Coran would be quiet with constant studying looks, and intense eye contact. This would probably come off as intimidating to some, especially given he's obviously drow. The charming version of Coranzan would be all smiles and definitely trying to get you to forget that he's drow. He's all compliments, winks, and friendly taps to the shoulder/arm. A stranger's opinion will certainly vary based on what side they get but either way, he is a rather pretty face and that lets him get away with a lot among strangers (depending on their view of drow, ofc).

Are they a night owl or morning bird?

Night owl. Fuck the sun. Despite having been on the surface long enough to adjust, he is uncomfortable under it. Sadly, surfacers operate around the gods damned sun, so between that and Coran just generally not able to sit still for long, Coran doesn't get a lot of rest.

What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

First of all, Coran is terrible at cooking and probably hates anything he's made in the field, to start. But broadly flavor-wise, Coranzan hates spicy/picante flavors (which hurts me deeply in my soul), and prefers earthy flavors. On the surface, he's come to appreciate the herbs and spices that can be added to those earthy flavors though.

Do they have any hobbies?

Song collecting (by ear), dancing (not just the Eilistraee-type stuff), reading different cultures fables, journaling/letter-writing, and some kind of skill-based strength training activity in rotation: think bodyweight progressions, gymnastics, rock-climbing.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Surprises in general? Coranzan can roll with the punches and pivots easily, at least with regards to pleasant things. A BIRTHDAY party in particular would be really unexpected. By now, everyone's seen the lore bit about how drow men don't celebrate their birthdays. Coran's birthday was celebrated vicariously through his sister's birthday (given they're twins) and in private, they would celebrate together. But someone ELSE in on this? He'd probably have a very strong emotional reaction to it - primarily feeling really bashful about it to start but very quickly LOVING the attention lavished upon him suddenly.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Yes - although most of my images of Coranzan do not show any jewelry (he removes everything when "on duty"), he likes to wear a lot of silver rings and piercings along his ears.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Neat handwriting - Coran writes a lot and eventually writes some of his stories and songs in an ornate style for his collections. He then hands these off to his sister for border decorations. A series of these are kept in a folio he keeps around.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Pride and inadequacy occupy his mind in the quiet moments. For the most part, he feels he's pretty accomplished given how he started as a dirt-poor drow male in Menzoberranzan with no prospects. But then again, comparatively speaking, he hardly amounts to anything and has spent so much time attempting to accomplish the bare minimum (in his mind) - it sometimes feels like he's behind.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

First off, Coran would rather NOT be wearing a lot of clothes (or any at all if he can get away with it). But when he does, it has to be something lightweight and comfortable for him to tolerate it (you can imagine how much he hates wearing heavy armor). Mix that with the fact that he's a bit of a peacock when it comes to clothes, so he'd prefer fancy silks if he can get his hands on them. When he does, he takes meticulous care of it so it lasts.

What kind of accent do they have?

Coranzan was born in a pretty dirt-poor part of Menzoberranzan, so his baseline accent was Deep Drow. He's now spent somewhere around 130-ish years out of Menzoberranzan - split between the Undermountain and Waterdeep. So his Common is decent enough but a slight accent remains - he spends much of his time conversing with his family and other drow, so he can go a long time without speaking Common on the surface, depending where he is in his life. As a side-tangent: He can imitate the noble sound of High Drow to a limited extent and sometimes borrows the phrasing of that dialect to imply a noble sound in theatrical story-telling. Although he has a very good ear for the sound, he hasn't been around it enough to speak it enough to pass for a noble - the result of is a rugged take on a noble sound that can be endearing to some or hated by others. Shout out to @mystxmomo for their awesome discussion on Drow dialects to get my head straight on some of that (although I'm inserting some of my own minor stuff here).

#If you read the whole thing you're my hero #coranzan

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kingstonromcom · 2 years ago

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Talk 2 Me // Miles Morales

Masterlist | Join Taglist !!

↳ tags : miles morales x male reader, miles morales x reader, male reader, marvel,itsv 2, itsv, spiderverse itsv

↳ pronouns used : he/him/his (I think they is also used)

↳ word count : 710

↳ note : i apologize for just now posting this bbgs here's a fanfic I would like to read :)).

The night was colder than usual, the city's skyline illuminated by the distant glow of neon lights. Miles Morales swung through the city as Spider-Man, his lithe form moving gracefully between buildings, but tonight was different. His movements were strained, every swing an effort, and the grace replaced with a hint of desperation.

Finally, he landed on a rooftop, panting heavily. His suit was torn, and bruises marred his skin. The pain was evident in his eyes as he contemplated his next move. The danger he faced tonight had been greater than he'd anticipated. He needed a safe place to rest and recover.

A familiar address came to his mind, a place where he knew he would find solace. With a renewed determination, he launched himself from the rooftop, swinging towards your apartment.

As Miles landed softly on your balcony, he rapped lightly on the glass door. His breath hitched as he waited, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. The door slid open, revealing you in pajamas. Concern etched across their face as they took in Miles' battered appearance. Without a word, they stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

Miles managed a faint smile, gratitude shining in his eyes. He didn't need to explain; they understood. He was safe here.

The reader led Miles to the bathroom, where they retrieved a first aid kit. You motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, and gently began to clean his wounds. The silence between them was comfortable, a mutual understanding that words weren't necessary right now. Your touch was gentle and soothing, each careful movement a balm to Miles' battered body.

Miles winced as you dabbed antiseptic on a particularly nasty bruise, and he instinctively reached out to grip their hand. His touch conveyed more than words ever could – the trust he placed in them, the vulnerability he rarely showed.

As you worked, tending to his injuries with practiced care, Miles couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. Why did he keep putting himself in these situations? Was he doing more harm than good? And why was he drawn to the reader like a moth to a flame?

His thoughts were interrupted your voice broke the silence, soft and comforting. "You're safe here, Miles."

He met their gaze, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I know."

You finished bandaging his wounds and sat back, studying him with concern. Miles mustered a tired smile, trying to reassure them. "I'll be fine. Just need some rest."

You nodded, but there was something more in your gaze – a question that went unspoken. Miles tilted his head, curiosity getting the better of him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice gentle yet filled with curiosity. "Why do you keep pushing yourself like this, Miles? You're just a kid."

Miles chuckled softly, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. "I guess I feel like I have to, you know? With great power…"

"Comes great responsibility," you finished for him, a small smile tugging at their lips. "But you also have the responsibility to take care of yourself."

Miles nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes it's hard to balance."

You reached out, tilting his chin up to meet their eyes. "You don't have to do it alone, Miles."

Miles held their gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within him – gratitude, longing, and a newfound sense of connection. Without thinking, he whispered the words that had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Mi amor."

You blinked, surprised by the endearment in his tone. Miles flushed slightly, realizing he'd spoken without thinking. But your eyes softened, and you smiled warmly.

"Rest for now, Miles," you urge him, your voice a soothing melody. "We'll figure everything out together."

As Miles settled onto your couch, his exhaustion finally catching up with him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort he hadn't experienced in a long time. In the quiet of the night, as he drifted off to sleep, he knew he had found a place where he truly belonged.

#miles morales x male reader #miles morales x reader #male reader #x reader #marvel #itsv #itsv 2 #spiderverse itsv #montell fish

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katarikitten · 1 year ago

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Firehosewoman has made her appearance!

General Information/Equipment Information:

Height: 6'3"

Rank: Lieutenant

Specialties: Medical knowledge, breaking and entering (not in the bad way), high arm strength

Other Information:

She likes gardening

She knows human anatomy better than Alliance anatomy, if you're an agent, give her a moment please

Twin of Firehoseman

Don't make her angry, she's the protective big sister and will bash your skull in if you harm her or her fellow firehose people

Iconic duo and tag team with Firehoseman

Her hose connection dial can be removed, her head being slightly rounded at the back once it is removed to match her slightly curvy head structure

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

Has a thinner backpack than Firehoseman due to having a thin, lean body

Carries a halligan bar (diagram explains its uses)

Also carries a standard fire rescue medical kit

Standard firefighter clothing

Double high visibility yellow stripes on nozzle

Thinner and slightly longer valve handle

Log [REDACTED], (##, ##, 1995): "The newest addition to this so called "Firehose Faction", as they call themselves, has seemed to finally calm the others down. She acts like your typical firefighter with a dash of motherly touch. The perfect counterpart to the normal male variant."

"They used to fight, over the most simple of things! It infuriates me to no end! But! I managed to steer clear of data formatting and instead thought of something else. All the current "variants" are male, they have no opposite gender. Now, I know what you're thinking, and no, they do not have nor need the parts to make smaller androids. I'm not even sure how that would work, but! She will balance them out, be the firm hand that [REDACTED] seems to lack at the moment. Hopefully he will learn from her and take in his role as "Chief" of this little "Faction". Hopefully they come around, and soon, he is getting angry."

-Doctor [REDACTED]

#Firehose Faction #skibidi oc #skibidi toilet

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vinegar-rights · 1 year ago

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thoughts on my version of little shop of horrors: seymours mother :p (read tags plz)

I like to combine aspects of the 1986 and the 1960 films :3.

He was put up for adoption as a baby, too expensive to care for a child. Seymour grew up assuming he was an orphan and was put into the custody of Mr. Mushnik. As he became older, he figured that he DID have a biological mother and she was still alive. He tried to reach out to meet her, but she refused to keep contact. He never met her until he became more well known, with newspapers covering the story of him and his new special plant. His success reached her and Seymour was delighted to know that he was finally going to meet his mother after so many years. Who knew fame was this powerful?

She requested that he visit her apartment for dinner. The woman was older, with messy gray-white hair and eyes that matched seymours, mousey and nervous. She welcomed her son but not without a quick check-up, only to make sure he won't drop dead right at that moment.

The apartment was messy, but no smell of mildew or sight of mold. A clean-ish hoarding situation, there were boxes everywhere full of who knows what and half-used first aid kits. The lack of bugs is what made Seymour confused, cockroaches were a common bug, especially in more drafty, more run down apartments like in Skid Row. He developed a bit of a phobia, growing up around the critters in skid rows home for boys. Dirty. Gross. Even as an adult he sometimes would sit up in bed in the middle of the night, scanning his room for any nocturnal bugs that would skitter in for shelter from the elements.

Seymour was immediately put off by the kitchen, where dinner was cooking. His mother had been talking the entire time, rambling something about the shop and what was in the paper that day, he tuned her out as he became more aware of his surroundings. The kitchen had bottles full of medicine, pill bottles aligned in rows on the counter, and already there's a napkin out with a glass of water with an assortment of pills that are ready to be consumed.

he noticed Seymour's quietness and slight discomfort, who was gazing at the view of her kitchen. She turned to explain her many issues, bad back, sinus infection, constant cold, her appendix got removed recently, ect. Her explanation managed to visibly calm her son's nerves, but he was still eyeing what was on the stove. Seymour tried not to pay mind to his mother's cooking, she was gracious enough to try to form a connection with him, and even asked him to come over! He turned to her to change the subject, he didn't want it to seem like he was judging her. They talked throughout the afternoon about what happened in the past years, and how they found each other. Most of the conversation was directed at Seymour: How did you find the plant? What kind is it? Oh, its a cross between a flytrap and what exactly? You don't know? You must be getting a lot of press, any opportunities? You were asked to host a TV show?ect. There were so many questions that Seymour wasn't to ask his own, he wanted to know why it took so long to talk to her, where was she this entire time, why didn't she reach out first?

Eventually, she passed him a bowl of whatever was in the pot in the kitchen. He didn't notice any food on the counter. The soup smelled sweet, like cough syrup. He opted to drink more of the water she offered, but he didn't want to be rude, he consumed some of the dinner. She grinned as she ate her food with her son, explaining that this is a staple of her household. The aftertaste after one spoonful made his whole body shiver as if he drank bitter wine. Out of fear of potentially offending her and risking her cutting him off forever, he ate a little bit more, cringing at the taste. Quickly he started becoming nauseous. He paused, looking more closely at the bowl, there was little to no actual food, there was a broth of course, but little to no items that would be the cause of this spike in anxiety and confusion. Something dawned on him. While his mother was watching him in between spoonfuls, she asked if he was okay. He nodded but politely declined any more. His newly reunited mother was either horribly ill all the time or a hypochondriac. He didn't need a high school education to know that. The pills and bottles on the counter were another explanation. This wasn't regular soup. She was drugging him. He sat up from the realization, and his mother became more worried at his sudden change of personality. She asked him if he was alright again, if he didn't like her food. He replied hastily that it was amazing, it's just that he remembered he left the stove on-- no, he needed to check on twoey, around this time her leaves should get washed. She accepted that explanation, and began pushing him out the door to help him on his way to Mushnik and Sons. As soon as Seymour was on the sidewalk outside of her apartment, he turned to an alleyway nearby. Fearful of whatever was in his system, he tried to throw up.

He became experienced when he accidentally ingested pesticide as a child and had to induce vomiting to avoid a hospital visit. He ran home, still feeling some residual effects of the drugs, despite only ingesting a little. The shop was empty and dark, Mr. Mushnik and Audrey went home early that day. He drank water and tried to calm himself. He found himself leaning next to audrey ii's pot, mind racing from the events that transpired. His strange mother, the apartment, the "food".

Tears sprang from his eyes as he thought everything over. She only cared to reach out as soon as he became famous. She didn't care to reach out to what was presumably her only child and never gave an explanation as to why she gave him away. He felt used. Defeated, he cried into his clammy hands. Why is everyone so cruel? Was twoey right? That some people were evil by fault and needed to die? His thoughts were deafening his senses, and didn't notice a vine curl around his body and pulled toward the sentient plant. Twoey could read his mind, which was why she knew what his innermost desires were. Turns out trying to get Seymour to reunite with his mother was a bad idea. He tired himself out after 2 hours, one of her vines snaked around his wrist and fingers, sensing Seymour's ratial artery to monitor his heart rate. He was asleep eventually, blanketed by twoeys vines and leaves. Thanks to Seymour, Orin left twoey satisfied for the past week, though maybe she could convince him again for another meal sometime soon.

#TW DRUGS AND DRUGGING #in the 1960 movie he ate a lot of the food/medicine his mother would feed him #and his mother would rely on him to take care of her medical bills #so i just think there'd be something life that #tw emetophobia #sorry if this doesnt make sense im not a writer #and im sorry about it being heavy i just like making seymour miserable #sorry buddy #little shop of horrors #seymour def has a phobia of bugs #as someone whos gone thru a bug infestation its quite common

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yourhealthcarespace · 1 month ago

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Why Australian Wellness Culture is Broken (And How to Fix It Without Going Broke)

The uncomfortable truth about expensive self-care and what actually works

By Gabrielle Riches, Wellness Coach at Your Healthcare Space

Last week, a client told me she felt like a failure because she couldn't afford the $180 reformer Pilates classes her friends were raving about. She was working two jobs, raising kids, and genuinely trying to prioritize her health—but the price tags were crushing her spirit before she even started.

This conversation happens more often than you'd think in my practice. Somewhere along the way, we've been sold the lie that good health requires a premium price tag.

Spoiler alert: It doesn't.

The Wellness Industry's Dirty Secret

Australia's wellness industry is worth over $5 billion, yet our stress-related healthcare costs continue to skyrocket. We're spending more on wellness than ever before, but we're not getting healthier.

The Australian Institute of Health and Welfare reports that chronic stress costs us over $14.2 billion annually in healthcare expenses. Mental health conditions account for 13% of our total disease burden.

Here's the kicker: most of what you're paying for isn't making you well.

The Instagram Wellness Trap

Open any social media app and you'll see it—perfectly curated morning routines featuring $60 adaptogenic powders, $200 infrared sauna sessions, and $300 weekend retreats. It's wellness porn, and it's making us feel inadequate about our real lives.

I've been working in healthcare for over a decade, and I can tell you with absolute certainty: the clients who achieve lasting results aren't the ones spending the most money.

They're the ones who understand that sustainable wellness is built on consistent, simple practices—not expensive quick fixes.

What Actually Creates Lasting Health

In my wellness coaching practice, I've watched hundreds of people transform their health. The most successful clients share common traits that have nothing to do with their budget:

They prioritize consistency over perfection. They drink water daily rather than doing juice cleanses monthly. They walk regularly rather than attending expensive boot camps sporadically.

They focus on root causes, not symptoms. Instead of buying supplements for fatigue, they address their sleep quality. Instead of expensive stress treatments, they identify and modify their stress triggers.

They work with their lifestyle, not against it. They meal prep on Sundays instead of ordering expensive healthy meal kits. They exercise at home instead of commuting to premium gyms.

This is the foundation of my Lifetime Balance approach—sustainable practices that evolve with your life, not against your budget.

The Free Health Upgrades Nobody Talks About

Sleep: Your Most Powerful Medicine

Good sleep impacts everything—immune function, weight management, mental clarity, stress resilience. Yet we spend hundreds on supplements while ignoring this free health reset.

The game-changers:

Consistent sleep and wake times (yes, even on weekends)

Dark, cool bedroom environment

No screens one hour before bed

Morning sunlight exposure within 30 minutes of waking

Cost: $0. Impact: Life-changing.

Movement as Medicine

Australia's climate is our secret wellness weapon. Beach walks, national park hikes, community gardens—all free, all incredibly effective for both physical and mental health.

Research shows: A 20-minute walk in nature reduces cortisol levels for up to 12 hours. That's more effective than most expensive stress treatments.

Connect with free movement communities through Parkrun Australia, Meetup groups, or your local council's recreation programs.

The Breath That Costs Nothing

Meditation apps charge subscription fees. Your nervous system responds to breath work for free.

Try this: 4-7-8 breathing (inhale 4, hold 7, exhale 8) activates your parasympathetic nervous system within minutes. Use it before meetings, in traffic, or when anxiety hits.

I teach these techniques in my workshops because they're universally accessible and immediately effective.

Nutrition Without the Premium Price Tag

The $5 Superfood Myth

Forget expensive superfoods. These budget nutrition champions deliver superior health benefits:

Rolled oats ($2/kg): Soluble fiber that balances blood sugar and supports heart health Dried legumes ($3/kg): Plant protein, folate, and fiber that rival any expensive protein powder Seasonal vegetables: Nutrient density that changes with the seasons—and the sales Canned fish ($2-4/can): Omega-3s and protein without the fresh fish price tag Eggs ($4-6/dozen): Complete amino acid profile and choline for brain health

The reality: One hour of Sunday meal prep using these ingredients creates more nutritional value than most expensive meal delivery services.

The 80/20 Truth

Perfectionist eating that breaks your budget isn't perfect—it's unsustainable. Focus on eating nutritiously 80% of the time and enjoying treats 20% of the time.

This balanced approach is central to helping clients develop realistic, long-term eating patterns that support both their health and their finances.

Mental Health on Any Budget

Free Professional Support That Works

Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636 (24/7 support)

Lifeline: 13 11 14 (crisis support)

Medicare: Up to 20 subsidized psychology sessions annually

Headspace: Free meditation for healthcare workers and students

Community as Medicine

Loneliness impacts health equivalent to smoking 15 cigarettes daily. Yet meaningful connection costs nothing:

Volunteer opportunities

Community garden involvement

Local library programs

Walking groups

Religious or spiritual communities

Social wellness doesn't require expensive networking events or retreat centers—it requires showing up consistently in your community.

Building Your Personal Wellness Blueprint

Start with an Energy Audit

Before adding new habits, assess what's draining your energy:

Common energy drains:

Poor sleep quality

Processed food overconsumption

Toxic relationships

Information overload

Chronic stress

Natural energy boosters:

Morning sunlight

Balanced meals

Regular movement

Meaningful relationships

Purpose-driven activities

I help clients map their personal energy patterns in my wellness coaching sessions because understanding your unique rhythm is more valuable than any generic wellness program.

The 1% Principle

Massive transformations come from tiny, consistent improvements. Aim to improve by just 1% daily:

Drink one extra glass of water

Walk 100 additional steps

Sleep 10 minutes earlier

Take three deep breaths when stressed

After one year, these 1% improvements compound to make you 37 times better. Math doesn't lie, and neither do results.

Your 30-Day Transformation Challenge

Week 1: Foundation

Establish consistent sleep/wake times

Drink water upon waking

Take one 10-minute daily walk

Practice 5 minutes of deep breathing

Week 2: Nourishment

Plan three budget-friendly meals weekly

Prep healthy snacks in advance

Eliminate one processed food item

Eat one additional serving of vegetables daily

Week 3: Connection

Reach out to one person meaningfully each day

Join one community activity

Spend 15 minutes in nature daily

Practice gratitude before bed

Week 4: Integration

Identify which practices feel sustainable

Adjust habits to fit your lifestyle

Plan for obstacles and setbacks

Celebrate small wins consistently

The Real Cost of Wellness

Here's what the wellness industry won't tell you: true wellness isn't expensive—it's consistent.

The most transformative health changes I've witnessed in my practice come from people who committed to simple, daily practices rather than expensive interventions.

Your health is indeed your wealth, but building it doesn't require draining your bank account. It requires understanding that small, consistent actions compound into extraordinary results over time.

Ready to build a wellness routine that works for your life and budget? I'm Gabrielle Riches, and I specialize in helping Australians create sustainable health habits without the premium price tag. Through personalized coaching, practical workshops, and my Lifetime Balance approach, I help people discover that the best medicine is often the simplest—and most affordable.

Let's chat about creating your personalized wellness blueprint. You can also explore more evidence-based health strategies on my blog or learn more about my holistic approach to healthcare.

Because your wellbeing shouldn't require a trust fund.

#australia #coaching #health and wellness #wellness #wellness routine

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cutthroatcarnival · 1 year ago

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Febuwhump Day 3: “Bite Down On This”

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injury, needles, injury desc, stitches, delirium

Warriors decided that being caught in a collapse after a battle was not a fun way to relax. Neither was having to stitch up a Four halfway delirious from pain.

Read it on AO3!

Steady Hands

“I know, I know,” Warriors gently pushed Four’s hand down, “I’m sorry, but I have to.” He grunted as the smithy’s knee connected to his torso. A grimace formed on his face, there would definitely be bruising.

Warriors cursed the horrid luck that came with being a hero under his breath. The portal had spat them out in the middle of a large monster camp in a cave, and while they had won the battle, nobody came away unscathed. Then the cave, with its incredible timing, collapsed, trapping a few heroes in the rubble. All in all, a horrible start.

He shook his head, refocusing on the smithy below him. Four’s face was pinched in pain, his eyes were open but not present. Warriors swung his leg over, pinning his lower half to the ground as he dug through his pouch, rooting around for the kit he knew he had.

“Blue, I don’ wanna…” Four’s words slurred together. At least the smith was still conscious- but Warriors had to clean and stitch his wound quickly. He growled, with only one hand to search for the kit, he was losing precious time.

Four let out a string of words, too slurred and jumbled for Warriors to comprehend. The only available hand was smacking weakly against Warriors’ chest. With an unenthusiastic noise, he pulled the kit from his pouch.

The smith’s hand had dropped to the floor, abandoning its attack on Warriors. Cautiously, the captain removed his hand from the smith’s injured arm. Four didn’t react or move, the mumbling was the only telling that he was still conscious.

He set the kit on the ground, and pulled his canteen off his belt, setting it on the ground as well. Warriors leaned over, assessing the wound; it was large, spanning almost the entirety of Four’s upper arm. He had gotten hit with an arrow, and a monster had managed to grab the shaft sticking out, pulling it and slicing the wound open more. The action had snapped the arrowhead off, staying caught in his flesh. It would be painful to dig it out.

Warriors pulled back and unbuckled the belt around his waist, sliding it off. He grabbed the bottom of the smithy’s jaw, trying to pry it open. Four’s hands returned, weakly pushing against Warriors, but the movement pulled at his wound, causing him to sob and thrash. Gritting his teeth, Warriors grabbed the smith’s injured arm, and pinned it back to the ground, shifting his knee up to keep it down.

“No… V’o…” Warriors swallowed, continuing trying to force Four’s mouth open.

“Four, I know, I know, but I need you to bite down on this.” He knew the smith couldn’t hear him, but it helped to ease his mind. Warriors took the opportunity in the lull in Four’s thrashing, managing to hook his mouth open and slide the leather belt between his teeth.

Warriors huffed and reached for his canteen, quickly unscrewing the cap. With a deep breath, he poured the water on the wound, and Four’s thrashing picked up again, muffled jumbled speech falling from his lips.

“I’m sorry, Four, please. I had to clean the blood away.” He poured water over his own hands, and set the canteen down, being careful not to spill any of the water, and reached for the kit. Warriors pried it open, taking out the tweezers he had slid in there when they were last in his era.

“I’m sorry.” He grabbed Four’s arm, and brought the tweezers down, trying to locate the arrowhead. Four was wiggling underneath him, making muted gasps and whines of pain. Warriors managed to find the arrowhead fairly quickly. He pressed harder on Four’s arm- the smith was strong, years of blacksmithing made sure of that- and started to extract the arrow, slowly and carefully, trying not to worsen the injury, wincing at the scream.

It came out with a fleshy noise, and Warriors cast it aside, “There! It’s out, Four, it’s out. Just a little longer, please.” His sobs had grown louder, face completely washed in pain. The captain grabbed the canteen again, washing both the wound and his hands a second time, carelessly setting it to the side- it was empty now anyway.

He grabbed the kit, taking out the needle and thread, blowing out a breath and willing his hands to stop shaking. Threading the needle successfully, he leaned back over the wound, “It’ll be over soon.”

Four’s screams, as the needle pierced his skin, no matter if they were muffled, made him pin his ears back. Warriors’ hands were trembling, and he forced himself to steel his nerves, pushing everything down to get the stitching done.

Warriors fell into the pattern of in, out, pull, watching the wound slowly close back up under his own hands. Eyes never leaving Four’s arm, ears twitching and flicking at every small noise the smith below him made. With a relieved sigh, he tied the stitch, grabbed the scissors and cut the thread. Warriors moved back, feeling his eyes sting as tears formed. He blinked them away furiously, and look down at Four. The smith had passed out, most of the pain had disappeared from his face. Warriors carefully pulled at the belt, releasing it from the grip of Four’s teeth. He rolled off the smith, landing a small ways away on his back, and stared at his hands, caked in blood; he hoped the others rescued them soon.

#linked universe #lu warriors #lu four #i make the boys suffer #sorry #kind of #mars writes #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024

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jadenmorales · 2 days ago

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Build Stunning Stores with Ecommerce TNC Webflow

You don’t have to invest a lot of time or money to make an ecommerce site that stands out. Ecommerce TNC is a wonderful Webflow template for companies, shops, and suppliers who want to get started right away. With this template, you have complete control over the design, which makes everything easier, from looking at products to checking out. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been running a store for a long time or are just starting your first one.

Deep Dive: Pros and Cons

Many ecommerce templates come with basic shop pages, but Ecommerce TNC has a lot more. Here are some of its main benefits:

1. Paths for Users That Are Easy

Customers can easily find what they want and check out with layouts that make sense. Quick-view modals, sticky add-to-cart bars, and one-page checkout options all make shopping easier and less likely to leave your basket.

2. Strong CMS

You can alter your catalogue right away by adding new items, changing prices, or changing descriptions. Would you like to write a blog post on the most recent drop in your collection? You can use the part of it that lets you blog.

3. Design System That Can Change

The UI Kit that comes with it isn’t just for show; it’s a set of tools that will help you be creative. You can make landing pages or promotional sections that are unique to your business by using cards, badges, banners, and forms.

4. Different ways to display goods

You can show your things in a list, a grid, a gallery, or a carousel. Use distinctive badges and hover animations to draw attention to featured items, bestsellers, or seasonal favourites.

5. SEO and Performance

Pages load faster when they have quick interactions, well-optimized assets, and clean code. Using semantic tags and meta data that you can change can help you get to the top of the search results faster.

6. Set for Retina and Mobile-First

Ecommerce TNC is meant to be flexible, and it looks great on any screen without any changes. The pictures are clear since they have a high resolution and the text changes size.

7. More difficult ways to check out

Allow guests to check out as guests, connect in with social media, and get fresh delivery dates. Webflow’s secure Stripe interface lets you process payments without worry.

8. Pages in your account that you can edit

Allow users to view their order history, manage their orders, and keep their favourite items. Customers will want to do business with you again if everything goes smoothly after the sale.

The Unique Benefits of Ecommerce TNC

Ecommerce TNC doesn’t just build you a nice website; it gives you a complete solution that is ready to grow. Your customers will have a great purchasing experience on any device because it is responsive. This is especially important these days, when mobile gadgets are so important. You may use the customisable product pages to show off the special features and choices that make your products stand out. This can make customers happy with what they bought.

If the checkout process is simple, people are less likely to leave their carts. The template structure also includes SEO optimisation, which makes it easier for people to find your store and brings in organic traffic without you having to do anything else.

Made to be helpful and help you grow

The Ecommerce TNC template looks great and operates effectively at the same time. Customers keep returning back since the photographs are up-to-date and it’s easy to find your way around. Blogging tools help with SEO and make your store look more trustworthy, which enables you connect with your audience on a deeper level.

Ecommerce TNC is a good way to quickly open your online store without affecting quality or functionality.

Are you ready to transform your online store?

Choose a template that is sturdy and can be changed. When you buy pages from Ecommerce TNC, you’re not just receiving pages; you’re getting a whole ecommerce solution that is made to grow, work well, and look great.

#ecommerce #shopping #webflow #webflowtemplates #websitetemplate #template #web design #ui ux design #web development #businesswebsite #trendings

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davidwhinney1996 · 3 days ago

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PR in 2025: From Podcasts to TikTok—How Agencies Craft Stories That Stick

PR isn’t just about press releases anymore. If you’re still thinking it’s all about media contacts and clip counts, you’re missing out. In today’s fast-paced, hyper-connected world, PR can be your data-driven narrative architect. It’s time to unlock its full potential and lift your brand to new heights. Let’s break it down.

Is PR Just Press Releases and Media Contacts?

Think a press release alone can carry your brand? Picture this: In mid-2023, GSK, a big-name pharma company, launched a new over-the-counter health supplement. They went old-school — minimal press kit, big press-release push, no social teasers, no influencer previews, no community buzz. What happened? Journalists skipped it, social channels stayed quiet, and Reddit lit up with #GSKFail chatter in just 48 hours. GSK had to pivot fast, throwing $750,000 at a micro-influencer campaign and a digital crisis team. They saved some product awareness, but their credibility took a hit, and the budget ballooned.

What’s the lesson here? PR can’t sit in a time capsule of print and email. It needs to build stories across every channel and track results beyond how many clippings you can stack. Here’s what modern PR should look like for you:

Craft Stories Everywhere: Think social videos, podcasts, data visuals — not just a one-shot press release. Your audience lives on multiple platforms, so your narrative should too.

Earn Coverage, Then Amplify It: Land spots in top digital outlets, then team up with your social crew to keep the conversation going. One placement can spark weeks of engagement if you play it right.

Ask yourself: Are you still betting on a single press release to break through the noise? If so, you might be setting yourself up for a GSK-style scramble.

Why Do Social Teams Need PR’s Earned-Media Expertise?

You might say, “I’ve got a social manager — why bother with PR?” Fair question. Can your social manager land you a guest spot on a top podcast, a feature in a respected newsletter, or a byline in a thought-leadership piece? Probably not. That’s where PR steps in.

Data backs this up. The 2023 Trust Barometer from Edelman PR shows earned placements in trusted outlets boost consumer trust by 52% more than branded posts alone. Meanwhile, PR Agency Review found campaigns mixing PR and social get 33% higher engagement than social-only efforts. Here’s why this matters for you:

PR Opens Doors: Your PR team builds ties with editors, podcast hosts, and niche writers — people your social manager likely can’t reach. These connections get your brand in front of new eyes.

PR Fuels Social Wins: Once PR secures a story, they hand it to your social team to run with. Studies like the 2022 Meltwater Digital Impact Study show this can lift organic reach by 40%.

Carla Stevens, a digital lead at a top tech PR firm, puts it plainly: “Brands that mix PR-earned stories with their own channels gain trust no ad spend can touch.”

5 Ways Modern PR Proves ROI Beyond Clippings

If you’re still measuring PR by ad value equivalents or clip piles, stop. Modern PR ties every move to real results — think conversions, sentiment shifts, and hard numbers. Here are five ways it delivers value you can see:

1. Sentiment and Share-of-Voice Tracking

PR teams use tools like Talkwalker and Brandwatch to check sentiment weekly. They link upticks to specific stories. For example, fast-growth fintechs have seen 25% jumps in positive vibes after targeted placements. You can track what people say about your brand and know what’s working.

2. Referral Traffic and Backlink Value

A solid PR hit in a big publication doesn’t just look good — it drives traffic. The 2023 Ahrefs Report shows PR-driven backlinks lift domain authority by 15–20%, sending more people your way over time. Imagine steady visitors from one well-placed article.

3. Lead-Generation Attribution

With custom UTM tags, PR tracks leads from digital press hits. Picture this: $1.2 million in earned media turns into 230 qualified leads. You get dashboards showing exactly how PR fuels your sales pipeline.

4. Earned vs. Paid Efficiency

The Ogilvy Review studied 50 campaigns and found PR gives $3 in ad-equivalent value for every $1 spent. Paid ads alone? Just $1.60. Your PR dollars stretch further when you lean on earned media.

5. Crisis-Ready Dashboards

Real-time tools spot negative mention spikes fast. Quick action can cut viral damage by 60%. A SaaS company once caught a sentiment dip from a product update tweet — PR jumped in with influencer interviews and flipped the narrative in 24 hours.

Want proof PR pays off? PR Agency Review’s unbiased insights help you pick agencies that measure what matters. Their scorecards show you who’s got the tools to track this stuff — and who’s just winging it.

Can PR Handle Real-Time Digital Crises?

When misinformation hits online, it spreads like wildfire. Can PR keep up? Yes — if you’ve got the right setup. PR Agency Review’s data shows top firms with real-time crisis plans cut amplification by 45%. Here’s how they do it:

Always-On Listening: Platforms scan keywords and hashtags 24/7, pinging you when trouble brews. You’re never caught off guard.

Fast-Action Playbooks: Pre-drafted messages and backup sites launch in hours to fix the story. No scrambling under pressure.

Live-Ready Spokespeople: Trained pros jump into Clubhouse talks or TikTok Q&As with clear, on-brand answers. Your voice stays steady.

Neil Gregory, a crisis expert at a global PR firm, says, “Digital crises need the same prep as old-school media storms, but twice as fast.” Brands with digital crisis kits even see 30% less stock-price chaos after a hit, per CrisisSim Analytics 2022.

Think about it: Could your team handle a sudden online storm? PR Agency Review’s practical guidance helps you vet firms with proven crisis chops — keeping your brand safe when it counts.

What’s the Future of PR in a Platform-Native World?

Platforms and algorithms change fast. If PR doesn’t keep up, it’s toast. Looking ahead, it’s your digital ecosystem navigator. Here’s where it’s going:

Influencer Curation Over Paid Ads: Earned ties with micro-creators, podcast hosts, and niche writers build real trust. Paid campaigns can’t fake that vibe.

SEO and Organic Boosts: PR teams tweak stories for search, making releases evergreen assets. A B2B software firm seeded whitepaper bits on LinkedIn Pulse — six months later, core keyword searches jumped 50%.

Attention-Grabbing Tactics: Data shapes story angles, video formats, and community chats to break through the clutter. You reach who matters most.

What’s your next move? PR Agency Review spots trends like these, giving entrepreneurs a heads-up on what works. Sponsors love it too — backing a resource that’s all about clear, honest insights.

Next Steps to Lift Your Brand

Go back to GSK’s mess. With PR Agency Review’s scorecard, they could’ve picked a firm blending press-release skills with influencer outreach, crisis plans, and SEO smarts — saving that $750,000 headache. You can do better. Here’s how:

Grab PR Agency Review’s Digital PR Scorecard. It benchmarks agencies on platform-native skills.

Ask for live demos of dashboards showing sentiment, traffic, and crisis alerts. See the data yourself.

Set clear roles: PR handles earned stories and crises, social runs engagement, marketing pushes paid ads.

Why This Matters for You

PR isn’t a relic — it’s your edge. It drives SEO, manages crises, and earns influence no ad can buy. Want to see how? Here’s a deeper dive to stretch your thinking.

Digging Into Sentiment Tracking

Say you launch a product. PR places a story in a tech outlet. Tools track how people react — 25% more positive buzz means your message lands. I once worked with a startup that saw sentiment flip from neutral to glowing after a single podcast feature. You can watch your brand’s reputation grow in real time.

Traffic That Keeps Coming

Backlinks aren’t just nerd stats. A friend’s e-commerce site got a Forbes mention — traffic doubled for months, not days. PR Agency Review’s data shows agencies that prioritize this deliver long-term wins. Could your site use that kind of lift?

Leads You Can Count

Those UTM tags? They’re gold. A client tied 50 leads to one PR hit in a trade mag. Not guesses — tracked clicks to sign-ups. Ask your PR team to show you this. If they can’t, check PR Agency Review for firms that can.

Crisis Prep in Action

I saw a brand tank a launch with a bad tweet. PR swooped in, briefed influencers, and fixed it overnight. Without dashboards and plans, they’d have floundered. PR Agency Review’s guidance helps you find teams ready for this — not just talkers.

Future-Proofing Your Story

Think long game. That B2B firm’s LinkedIn play wasn’t luck — PR mapped keywords to searches their buyers used. You could seed content that ranks for years. What’s your brand’s evergreen angle?

Your Toolkit

Sentiment Tools: Try Talkwalker or Brandwatch. Watch how stories shift perception.

Traffic Check: Use Google Analytics to see referral spikes from PR wins.

Lead Tracking: Set up UTMs — tie PR to your CRM. Prove the payoff.

Crisis Plan: Build a basic alert system with keywords. Test it now.

SEO Start: Pick three keywords. Work them into your next PR pitch.

Questions to Chew On

What’s your last PR win? Did it move the needle — or just sit there?

Could your social team use a trust boost from earned media?

How fast can you respond to a digital crisis today?

Are you ready for platforms to shift tomorrow?

The Bottom Line

PR Agency Review isn’t here to sell you — it’s a resource. Entrepreneurs get clear, data-backed picks for agencies that deliver. Sponsors align with straight talk and real results. Modern PR can elevate your brand with SEO, crisis control, and earned trust. Don’t let it stay stuck in the press-release past.

FAQ:

How do PR and social teams work together? PR secures outside validation; social spreads it and chats with your crowd.

What tools show PR’s worth? Mix Meltwater or Talkwalker for sentiment, Google Analytics for traffic, and UTMs for leads.

Can small businesses do this cheap? Yes — target niche blogs, micro-influencers, and local crisis plans to stretch your budget.

Footnotes:

Edelman PR Trust Barometer, 2023

Meltwater Digital Impact Study, 2022

Ogilvy Review, “Earned Media Efficiency,” 2021

#pragencyreview #startup #marketing #commercial #businesshacks

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