#EMHY

[frkt83-blog]

Retire and Go: The Geoarbitraging Minimalist Southeast Asia Slow Travel Lifestyle

I’d like to highlight a YouTube channel that I have discovered and have been watching recently called Retire and Go. Retire and Go is a YouTube channel created by an American named Chris. In the videos he describes how he has retired and lives off dividends in Southeast Asia. Below is a great video where Chris discusses how he was offered a job in the US paying $70,000 USD. After taxes,…

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

What do you like to eat and Emhyr’s ass? 🤣 (you said you wanted to be asked about this rather than certain other things, in your tags, but it was written so funnily. Sorry. Appreciate Emhyrs ass though)

Yeah putting those two in one sentence can do funny things in your head, though not judging anyone if they want Emhyrs ass to be served :p. I looove posting (showing off) his backside so much that a certain person (no longer on tumblr and IG thank god) wouldnt shut up about the "disrespect". I worship Emhyr's glorious posterior!

[vsnotresponding]

happy sts!

an oc-centric question today…

if your character hears something that insults them (from someone), what do they do?

happy sts !

most would just let it be, for various reasons. aira and ira just don't give a fuck about businesses that are not their own, akira and emhi are the biggest person, eak and enzo would not start anything on purpose, karma is socially anxious but he would get very mad and circle through the comment for weeks, and ceres, ely, and marte couldn't care less

sahare and sher would probably go up to that person and correct them explaining why their opinion is trash. saha would do it nicely, sher would do it in such a way that you wouldn't even realize he changed your opinion

and finally, those that would start shit. garvan would get into a verbal spar for the fun (ira would too if she knew the person personally), and lyric would probably get into a physical fight (if the insult was directed at akira or hannah)

this is assuming they are not insulted directly in the face btw

[wintersfalling]

Moving In With The King's - CHAPTER 2 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1410840172-moving-in-with-the-king%27s-chapter-2?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=winters_falling&wp_originator=EMHY%2BME32e2avrbv7REjHfOB9L0iKP1QRXw8dze9m5MDndr%2FV3Q%2B0gnPpARdjDh8ALOvd2x%2BNuHrXFR8ycYA90v6pXKsxA7e0fvy1MbVAizoYdYweR2N82K%2F1AcXgH1v Tragedy strikes when 17 year old Ember Lee-Green's parents are killed in a fire at their work. Forcing Ember to live with her aunt and uncle. When Ember's aunt and uncle kick her out, she's then forced to move in with the King family. Peyton and Reed King, their eight sons and Reed's nephew, Dallas. As Ember and the King's son, Brandon, start to grow close and form a connection, things take a turn when Brandon's best friend, Randall Redwood, starts to grow close to Ember as well. And now Ember finds herself stuck in a love triangle between two best friends, uncertain of what to do. Because choosing one, means hurting the other !! This story was inspired by "My Life With The Walter Boys" by Ali Novak. ©️a.j riley ™️ 2023

[444namesplus]

french names but encoded with qorviss

Acamae Adween Agvis Ahinqivi Alnert Amahu Amavi Anain Andta Andtae Anfick Anfie Angumadae Anobas Anojundnu Anojundta Anvi Anvihiwee Anziivi Arnotvu Artnir Arveud Audtay Aupota Autamae Autamaen Bduxi Beel Beelno Bego Begoph Begotvu Behulyvi Bevetdin Boan Boancnauqe Boanfivi Boanfnungiis Boanhirc Boanhiwee Boanjec Boanleerta Boanqaczol Boanreuis Boanroul Boanvi Bonfikar Bopoca Boslilu Bwegetvu Camasfu Canafie Cdinjal Cdirnos Ceczir Cenhunt Cergefie Chree Chwesbian Chwesbiavi Chwesbivi Chwesvulno Chweszipzo Cnaita Cnanu Cnauqe Cnauqivi Cnocanhu Cnocant Cywel Daenbin Dofia Donangu Doprue Dynan Ebienvi Eholyvi Emaavi Emafuneth Emago Emhi Emhiseel Emhiseelno Enpu Eqamae Ereqie Esvulno Ewec Figinas Figino Fnunck Fnuncus Fnuncuvi Fnungiigo Fnungiis Fobweel Foejan Foelno Fretanhu Fretant Frewean Ftaqewec Fubweve Fujiel Fukuvi Fundnu Fundwevi Funuh Gegono Gelnert Gelnos Gevitvu Ginotvu Ginumae Giwenvi Gohowevi Gorgu Gotusbien Grusnaivi Gtaciry Gunurd Guorgus Guorgutvu Gurhiivi Guviceeho Hibaca Hifoma Hiqenoivi Hirbivi Hirc Hirhul Hirhulno Hirzuewevu Hitrueu Hitrulqe Hittrueu Hiuwehu Hiwea Hiwee Hiweechwesbivi Hiweecnauqe Hiweetzotago Hiweon Hiwevi Hixin Hopofidae Hucuno Hudwec Humavi Ifunelno Itavi Ivis Jec Jecue Jecuen Jecuenvi Jelus Jexacec Jiweel Juceer Komae Komaen Komaetvu Kosbivi Leerta Leertatvu Limin Limivi Lupomavi Lupono Luqalno Lutzowevi Lyqie Mamaavi Maovil Midicad Mifidae Mirfovi Myweam Naebibia Naunu Nauta Nautanhu Nautant Neatwehu Nentiqan Nertnund Nerveqetvu Nerverd Nexiit Nici Nizuetvu Noa Nupdiel Nuymind Nuyminqe Ohuavi Omaceer Oqetvu Oqino Pacen Pibwehu Pikuen Pikuenvi Pinny Pogur Pohiin Ponand Ponert Prumapki Qacdiel Qacsael Qaczol Qaczolno Qaczomavi Qaczono Qatailno Qefigo Qefis Qelpruvi Qiqier Qoced Qofiel Qofielno Qofieno Qoqaen Reic Reuigo Reuis Roslul Rosluno Rotweck Rotwecua Rotwehu Roul Roumavi Rounotvu Sawevi Svupdifie Svupdivi Sylcee Sylvoin Tages Tagevi Tamy Taqa Tavi Tavie Ticdaemavi Ticdaes Tifivi Tlohis Truerry Tupbisvu Tzoo Tzotago Valmaam Veqia Veqivi Vetdimae Vononbin Vonowee Vovisfu Wecdird Xaqafidae Xieqae Yanfick Yann Yfanvi Yhos Yhotvu Zaxunvi Zonovi Zonwe Zonweetvu Zorho Zuilnauca Zuy

[shrunkupthejams]

🖊 for whichever oc you're most interested in talking about rn!!

thanks for the ask :))

okay so the oc on my mind a lot lately has been jungho song. i haven't talked about him on here before because they're from timekeeper kiddos, and idk how to talk about tmkp kiddos because they're so special to me. but jungho is on the brain, so.

for some background, the main part tmkp kiddos takes place around 2003 in a small town in british columbia when the main cast is in their first semester of grade 12. and here is jungho at that part of the story:

jungho uses he/him pronouns at this point, but starts to use he/she/they in college after they realize they're nonbinary. so im gonna talk about her with those ones.

anyway, they've kinda just been sitting around in my brain because a song reminded me of her and then i listened to their playlist. like rotating him in my mental microwave.

jungho is just really fun to add more layers to (like all the tmkp kiddos characters). like he started out mostly as this sweet guy that ends up being oaken’s beard/bi-awakening. and just a lot of his character was based on his relationships with oaken and emhy, his best friend. but over time she's had the chance to get more dimension and detail. like i've started to look more at their self-image and how they see their body and how their view of romantic relationships changes over the story and their internalized homophobia. all that good stuff.

like jungho was the token cishet of the main cast until i let them take the reins, and now they're a nonbinary bisexual who feels a little invisible with all their queer friends that think he's the token cishet. (except emhy. she was the one back in middle school or whatever making jokes about jungho being bisexual, only for jungho to not figure that out themself until like 15.)

and i feel like something i always forget about him is that he's technically a jock. he plays football and rugby and is good friends with one of the star athletes (and the actual token cishet of the main cast), chaz. who is like, the privileged upper-middle class white boy. exploring how that friendship does and *doesn't* work is entertaining.

high school jungho is honestly a bit lost. exploring that lately has been fun.

this was completely rambly but yeah :)) that's jungho.

[dukeofdogs]

Gwent: The Witcher Card Game | 20 years of CDPR celebration | Avatars and cardbacks

+ border

Titles: Dignified Celebrator, Joyful Rebel, Shanty Singer, Royal Guest, Crazy Scientist, Sweet Tempter and Cheerful Blood Drinker

Fun fact, they turned Yaevinn into Cerys lmao below the original illustration vs the cardback/avatar

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

How do you find Netflix Emhyr?😏

Hi anon!

I must confess, I did not watch TWN after S1 because I was underwhelmed and I hurt my head banging it on my desk from their take on A Question of Price (my fave short story).

But I kept myself updated by watching reviews from xLetalis, WitcherGeorge, ProperBird, etc.

I have many things to say about the show, and mostly unflattering ones. But let us focus on TWN Emhyr.

I am happy that they got a handsome guy to play him. He definitely looks the part, even got the intimidating personality down pat. Sadly I hate the writing because it made Emhyr look dumb. I posted before how I find TWN stupid for revealing that Ciri is his daughter (possibly to change the controversial issue with what he wants to do with her).

TWN Emhy: gorgeous daddy, but a blabbermouth.

Oh and I have no plans of watching the last season, not even for Emhyr.

(pic above is an airbrushed photo of game Emhyr to look like TWN Emhyr).

[vsnotresponding]

CHAPTER 5 - THE CONNECTION - KARMA

masterpost

Her eyes remind me of my lion plushy: the color, their unflinching direct gaze and the gemlike quality of their texture.

They shined, before; empty, at nothingness. But it was worse when Áine brought her back. Her name, Ira, so fitting for the brightness of the Iria and the wild animal of the throne room, dissonant when it was all gone, replaced instead by a face dirty with grime and blood, punctuated by tired eyes, and the wounded, sick girl sitting in front of us.

And just like the lion’s, her eyes bring up an uncomfortable feeling in my chest.

Now that I can see her up close, it’s impossible to look away. They are otherworldly, unlike anything I’ve seen before, and yet their incredibly solid yet fluid color brings back visions of the sky at dusk. And beyond the color, and the brightness, there’s a shadow trapped in there as she smirked at Garvan and as she explained her gifts. I’m confounded gazing at them, and uncomfortable, and I want to both look away and to never tear my gaze from them.

Her words, nonsensical, dance in my head.

Connections. Echo. Tie. The myth untangling before us. Data, knowledge, history lessons and of politics, the legends—

“It was a scream of agony.”

Like in the accident.

My euphoria gets cut at her words. When she talks, her voice is different. More ancient, pained, as if she herself were carrying it too.

Like an echo.

I look at Áine, who, horrified, has moved away from the girl, Emhi moving in between the two of them. Garvan, now kneeling, is prepared to unsheathe his sword. Paralyzed again, I wait for someone else to act, but the world is still.

My creation heats up slightly, the air denser than a few seconds ago.

Tension rises up and my heart speeds up when we all realize the creator is not tied up and, most importantly, her left hand has been left undressed, blood drying on the back of her hand.

“Ira?”, Áine gently moves Emhi’s arm away to rest a hand on the girl's shoulder. She flinches at the contact, breathing violently, and the density in the ambience disappears as she chokes on air.

We look at each other. Garvan in on his feet in an instant, approaching with the shackles, and Áine hurries to look for the bandages to dress the wounds.

They both stop in their tracks when Ira speaks again. Her chest is heaving, eyes glued to the golden details of the pillow in front of her. The light frames her head, shadowing her face.

“Ila is the dirt and the language;” without raising her gaze, she recites a familiar passage from Ila’s conditions, “the blood that runs in your people’s veins. Ila is the island and the island is Ila.

“She’s the echo.” She pauses to look beyond my shoulder, her eyes unfocused. Her hands clench on the cloth at her fingers. “I feel it. The beating.” She looks at—through—Áine. “We are one.

“You say you can fix what’s wrong with the Core.” Now she looks at me, eyes more focused, the closeness painful when I look at her broken nose and the blood drying on her chin. The shadow on her eyes flickers, and I realize she’s trying to calm us down. To contain herself. I nod, slowly, nervously. “You want… to understand me.” I nod again, more decided this time. “But I’m here against my will. As a prisoner. Under threat that if I don’t obey, they’ll massacre my people.” She looks me in the eyes at that, and her voice remains unbroken. Her eyes are back to being hers. No shine, no haze. Still filled with rage and some tears on her eyelids. She doesn’t let them fall. I lower my head, ashamed. 

I know she thinks of the shahin and my brother when she looks at me.

She sighs, resigned, a fatigue settling on her frame that goes beyond the physical.

“Go on,” she continues, while putting her wrist together towards Garvan. “The thing you’ve given me makes me sleepy, and I don’t think you would allow me to sleep over something that’s not marble.”

In spite of her words, I see that Garvan expects her to resist. She doesn’t. And he hesitates. Because we all see how she returns our gazes: tired, defeated, pained—but proud and defiant too. And because he has lived part of the pain she talked about. He, and Emhi, and most of all Áine, have.

“I have no option but to help you.”

Her words might indicate she’s given up, but her eyes tell a completely different story.

That might be why they let her clean her nose before chaining her down, her arms in front of her and not at her back. It might be why I act on the state she’s in, the one I have so fixated on without doing anything about it because ignoring it is easier than doing something about it, and suggest to Emhi to find her a change of clothes so she can bathe.

It might be why I make the effort, once in my study, to think about her by her name and not as a creator. To start thinking on a possible solution that doesn’t cause her any more pain.

It might be why, when we receive news of Sher’s fiancée coming in the following weeks, I prepare, a plan starting to take shape in my mind.

I remember the fragment of the legend she cited to us, mouthing the words of the end to myself.

Then, and only then, the Core will beat again.

tag list: @my-cursed-prince @on-noon

[chasneedsamoustache]

I’m adding this to the ‘the Witcher and shrek are the same damn thing’ case

[deithwensworld]

Introduction

Ceàdmil evelien! 

As you may have understood from the profile picture and the greeting, I am a huge The Witcher fan. I’ve been one for about two years thanks to The Witcher 3. I have yet to play The Witcher 1 and 2, but I promise I will as soon as I get a decent PC! I have played Thronebreaker and I’ve spent about 700 hours on Gwent (Beta + Homecoming). I have also read the books and it’s thanks to them that I’ve started to like some characters that didn’t totally convice me in the games, like Emhyr, but this is the subject for another blog ;) That said...

What will you find in my blogs?

- The Witcher lore (characters, places, languages,...)

- TW theories, headcanons and characters analysis

- TW + MBTI (Myers and Briggs Type Indicator) and Enneagram and/or other types indicators

- TW chats

- TW art [I am not an artist, but I like to draw from time to time]

- Gwent Homecoming (decks, guides, news,...) [Btw, if you want to add me, my nickname is ElaineDeithwen]

[belenose]

(Mario Emhi)

[soupercatte]

FFXIV Writing Prompt 23: Pitch

Kelas hummed to herself as she worked, hands deft with the knife as she carefully cut the meat into thin slices, setting them to the side to later be rolled in spices. Normally she would not be doing this with Langur meat as the lean marsupial like creatures typically were reserved for feasts and roasts, but they had been rather lucky with their hunts as of late and there was another Langur ready to be carved and placed above the fire waiting for her on the butcher table outside.

“Emhi, dearest?” She called out the open window, waiting for a moment before a small girl poked her head in. She was thin with large eyes the color of polished gold, her complexion dark with long pin straight black hair.

“Yes Mama?” The little girl said in a tinny voice, huddling herself behind the door frame. Kelas smiled at her, her youngest daughter, one of her pride and joys. 

“Will you go and bring me the basket of spices from G’ota’a’s workbench? I forgot to bring them inside.”

“Okay Mama.”

The little girl hopped away, returning shortly with the shallow reed basket filled with various salts and peppers and spices for the meat to be rolled in. She would hang them on hooks in a small clay smoker behind their home, turning the chunks of Langur into tasty strips of dried jerky that the family could enjoy for the weeks to come.

“Where are your siblings?” She asked as Emhi turned to leave, the child rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Ra-Ra and Sae-Sae are helping Papa.” She said plainly. “To-To is reading. I don’t know about the others though…they’re all outside.”

“That’s fine. You can go back to playing, thank you, My Love.”

The little girl smiled, nodding in an exaggerated manner before scampering away. The young woman returned back to her work, expertly trimming away fat and fur and began to roll them in the spice rub, working as quickly as she could manage. She had to ensure she finished preparing the meat to be dried before it got too late into the night as her husband G’ota’a, being only half Moon Keeper, typically fell asleep before the rest of the family. He was planning a little secret though he would not tell her what it was and she wanted to ensure she got plenty of time to spend with her family.

The Sanpou clan was an…unusual addition to their tribe, typically left to their own devices at the outskirt of the settlement. Not only did Kelas and G’ota’a tend to shun the standard on and off again mating practices that Moon Keepers followed by staying together (let alone G’ota’a being well, himself, opting to stay close to the tribe and work as a craftsman instead of wandering between settlements like the other men) but they had earned a less than savory reputation for the sheer number of boys the family had. Typically fairly rare to see even one or two in a clan, Kelas had been blessed --or cursed, if you talked with the others -- with five boys, each vastly different in their likes and personalities.

When her fourth son, Kelas’sae, had been born was around the time the tribe became more hostile as it was considered back luck to have more than three, the gods cursing them for their greediness. And then of course they had dared to hope to have one last girl and had ended up with her youngest son and final child, Kelas’ra. A small black puffball of hair and fur, she had loved him dearly as she did all her children but the tribe itself was less than pleased with the new addition, let alone when he had finally opened his eyes to show the strange red hue to his left eye. G’ota’a had stated he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry and or jump with joy over the development as he had advised Kelas of his tribe’s history, some ancient civilization called Allag and those gifted with red eyes being the keepers of Allag’s secrets. Prior to the Garlean occupation Kelas’ra would have been considered a blessing, receiving gifts and accolades from the G Tribe G’ota’a had come from but now it was a dangerous calling card, requiring him to be hidden away from the world lest the Garleans discover him and take him away. The Keeper tribe had all seemed to unanimously agree the eye was a curse as well, rumors circulating that he was actually a vengeful Manusya reborn but she knew better. Her youngest was too sweet for such a thing.

Kelas finished with the Langur meat and rolled it thoroughly through the spices, hefting the basket to her hip and stepping outside. The air was cool, the insects chirping brightly as she headed to the clay oven and lit the fire underneath, placing logs into the feeder chute that had been built into the side to automatically drop them at regular intervals to keep the flames at the same temperature, an ingenious invention of G’ota’a’s making. Placing the seasoned strips of meat on the hooks and metal grill plates she made sure each was spread out, nodding in approval once she had finished and placed the heavy lacquered woodblock over the entrance of the oven, sealing it away to let it slowly smoke over the next couple of days.

She washed her hands in the creek nearby, drying them on her linen trousers and returned to the house, pausing as she heard a chorus of giggling and high pitched shouting. Curious, she peered around the home and smiled to herself, watching the congregation of her children sprinting about, chasing each other and rough-housing while G’ota’a worked with Kelas’a, their eldest.

“Momma momma!” One of the boys called, their heads turning on a swivel as they soon stampeded over in a cloud of dust, climbing over her and circling her legs in a swarm of arms and legs and tails.

“Come now, it’s not like I wasn’t just inside.” She laughed, brushing them away. “Go on, stop climbing you little monsters!”

The children hopped around as she strode forward, joining G’ota’a as he grinned, holding a large melon in his hands. He was a handsome man, absurdly tall with a deep bronze complexion and red hair pulled back into a loose flowing braid that trailed down his back. With high cheekbones and a lopsided grin, to say that Kelas was smitten the first time he stepped foot into the tribe begging for sanctuary would be an understatement.

“Look what I found!” He beamed, his vibrant golden eyes wide with excitement. “Sisters praise! It was the last one of the season, it would appear! And the merchant took half price as they didn’t want to haul it back to their cart again. This feels cause for celebration, don't you think, Dearest?”

She agreed heartily, thumping the melon with her middle finger and listening to the hollow drum sound it made. It was a good one. “I’ll never say no to a good party. Shall I get your oud, then?”

G’ota’a smirked, glancing down at the sea of eager eyes peering up at him. “It would appear our audience would throw a tantrum if you didn’t. I’ll start rationing out the melon then!”

He waved over Kelas’a, the fifteen year old nearly a carbon copy of his father but with short messy red hair. “Here, take my carving knife, you need practice.”

Kelas smiled warmly as she watched him patiently show the easy way to cut the melon, Kelas’a’s eyes darting back and forth as he watched his father’s hands before trying it himself. The younger children scrambled around him, Coyah and Kelas’li and Kelas’sae a force of nature in their own right, bouncing and whining with grabbing hands waiting eagerly for their treat while Emhi and Kelas’ra hovered in the back, patient so they didn’t get trampled by their older siblings..

She headed back into the home. glancing about and looking for the instrument, catching sight of Kelas’to curled up in the corner.

“Come on outside.” She mused as she passed, ruffling his long black hair. The second born child, he had taken after her instead with a cool pale tone to his skin and sharp blue eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles.

“It’s muggy.” He said plainly, hunkering down. 

“There’s melon.”

“I’ll pass.”

Kelas rolled her eyes, spotting the oud behind the silks hanging from the wall behind the large bed the family shared, carefully lifting it into her hands. “Your loss, then. There won’t be any leftovers with the little ones going at it.”

He shrugged, licking his thumb and turning the page. “I will live, I think. Thank you, Mother.”

Always so odd… She thought to herself but said nothing, hurrying back outside to see the other kids waiting anxiously in a semi-circle around their father as he handed out chunks of the fresh crisp melon. Coyah, her eldest daughter, inhaled her slice of melon before chucking the rind to the ground, turning to her youngest sibling and taking his piece. 

“Ah-!” Kelas’ra swatted her, trying futilely to take it back. “Coooyah! Coooyah!” He cried, holding on to her shirt tail as she laughed and spun around, eating his piece as well as he began to cry. They were massive crocodile tears, wailing at the top of his little lungs while Coyah smacked him lightly.

“Shut up, Baby.” She grumbled, pausing as she caught sight of their mother watching with a disapproving glance. Kelas’ra saw her too and reached out, waddling over as he cried, snot and tears pouring down the five year old’s face.

“There there…” Kelas scooped the child into her free arm, cradling him against her shoulder as she shot daggers at Coyah, the twelve year old huffing and digging her toes into the dirt.

“Are you going to apologize?”

“He’s just a baaaaby, he doesn’t get to eat melon!”

“Coyah he’s not a baby. You can’t just take his things.”

“He cries like a baby though…”

Kelas’ra sniffled, turning around and sticking his tongue out as Kelas rejoined G’ota’a by his side, handing him the instrument. He chuckled, taking it and trading her a piece of melon for the troubles.

“I had assumed this would happen.” He mused, cutting his own slice in half and giving the chunk to their youngest who happily took it, biting into the piece with gusto.

“Now then..” The half Seeker sat himself on the porch, tuning the lute-like instrument as the clowder of children scuttled about, eagerly finding a place to sit. Kelas’ra made no move to leave her arms however, perfectly content to cling to her chest as he gnawed on the melon slice, juice dripping down his round cheeks. “What song are we feeling tonight? Something happy? Sad? A story, perhaps?”

They all shouted what they wanted to hear, not a single one of the kids matching in their answers. G’ota’a nodded sagely as he pretended to listen, already having chosen his song long before asking. His fingers moved deftly across the strings as he plucked a soothing tune, waiting for the kids to stop their bickering.

Kelas sat herself at his side, Kelas’ra perched in her lap as the others began to quieten down at last, waiting for him to begin.

“How about..” G’ota’a said gently, his voice falling into pitch with the oud, strings plucking one by one as his fingers glided up and down the neck. “...a story of the clever Manusya Babak and the fierce Mrga warrior Mahtab? Two gods who had been pitted against each other since the first sunrise and must help each other or their lands would be swallowed up by the dark god Anant!”

His voice was soothing and clear as he sang the ballad, telling the old folktale that Kelas had grown up hearing herself but she had always preferred her husband’s renditions, the vibrato in his voice, the pleasant timbre as he flickered between the words, the higher pitched notes of the wise Manusya and the deeper, more energetic cords for the mighty animalistic Mrga. Her children were enraptured, crowding closer and closer together as they listened to the tale, their little hands grasping at each other with each climax of the story, anxiously awaiting the ending as if they hadn’t heard this one multiple times before.

This was one of their favourite pastimes, something the whole family enjoyed greatly, binding them together. Even Kelas’to sneaked out of the house, crossing the porch to join the group huddled together, drawn in by the flowing music.

G’ota’a shifted from one song to the next, rocking back and forth as he played, his honeyed voice echoing across the clearing as one by one Kelas saw the children began to fall asleep as the distant cool purples and pinks of early morning light was beginning to shimmer in the sky. It was getting fairly late for them, especially the younger ones. Kelas’ra had long curled up in her lap, his oversized ears and puff of a tail twitching in his sleep as he snored, folded up into a tight ball. She stroked his face as he slept, mussing his wild tangle of black hair. He’d need that cut soon, it was already in his eyes.

G’ota’a finally paused his song, glancing down at the pile of sleeping Miqo’te at his feet and chuckled, giving Kelas a wink as he sat the oud against the wall, stretching his shoulders and wrists.

“And just like that, they’re ready for bed. If only every night was this easy.”

“Tell me about it. Most days I wish I had a third of their energy.”

The couple beamed at each other as he helped her to her feet, rousing the older kids to help carry the younger ones to bed. Slowly they plodded into the small home, dropping themselves into the bed made of a plethora of pillows and blankets, curling up together and immediately falling back to sleep. Kelas laid her youngest into the pile, watching Kelas’ra crawl to the center, held tenderly by his siblings as they pulled him close.

“Are you going to sleep as well? It’s far past your bedtime, I think.” Kelas teased as G’ota’a gave a wide yawn, purring contentedly as his tail wrapped around hers, intertwining as they watched their children snore. 

“Perhaps, it has been a long day. Err, well, night, I suppose. Will you be alright on your own for the next couple of hours?”

“Pssht, who do you think you’re talking to? Get some sleep, Love. I’ll finish up around the house and you can take it over when you wake in the afternoon and that god awful heat and humidity.”

Laughing, he gave her a tender kiss before sprawling out across the bed as well, turning out the lamps and curling around the kids protectively.  Kelas quietly tiptoed out of the room to continue on with her errands for the night, humming to the tune of ballads he had played earlier, the scenes playing in her mind as she went. Despite the occasional sour remark or annoyed glance she enjoyed living here with the tribe, hidden well away in the jungles as they were. They were safe here and content, able to wile away the days and nights singing and helping each other. It was pleasant, she thought as she rolled her shoulders, preparing for the long tedious job of stripping that last Langur and getting it ready for a roast.

It really was. And she hoped it would always stay this way, at least until she was old and decrepit and all her children grown and parents in their own right. It was all she wanted.

[yopsocs-illus]

OC Playlists (I Have So Many):

JMG:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Keiss x Marico Playlist

Timekeeper Kiddos:

Group Playlist

Oaken's Playlist

Jungho's Playlist

Emhy's Playlist

Lydia's Playlist

Yoshi's Playlist

Chi's Playlist

Chaz's Playlist

Natalie's Friends' Playlist

Harvey's Playlist

Ginny's Playlist

ChazOak Arranged Marriage AU Playlist

Jungho at PSU AU Playlist

Camilla Marie & Co.:

Astelle Lofi Playlist

Camilla Marie & Company Playlist

Camilla Playlist

Althea Playlist

Shielda × Dlade:

Shielda & Sabine Playlist

Waldosia:

Waldosia Playlist

Bentley Playlist

Geo & Chad:

Of Sea Jewels and Great Lords

Double A Batteries:

Double A Batteries Playlist

Jet Astriak:

Sea Cowboy AU Playlist

Modern AU Playlist

Arcana AU Playlist

Red As Blood:

Rosy Playlist

Rosy, Liesel, & Lucy Playlist

ISR:

Moitra Lofi Playlist

Moitra Country Playlist

Moitra Playlist

Moitra: Then & Now Playlist

Betra Playlist

Miram, Opal, & Ivan Playlist

Tyler & Sam Playlist

[winri]

hello, i'm not really into the tumblr trading community but there are some urls i have that i'd like to trade or sell, so feel free to offer!

also if i don't reply here you can send me a dm on instagram my user is @/whisperain which is my trading account there.

ryuuho

komachine (TRADED)

otsuta

arimoto

kukumila (TRADED)

roseberg

rabitto

seaetto

hapiba

kagenou

ungeun

varukirii

eurua

vorgeil

horowei

aliceliese

nasien

nasiens

kollei

imunlaukr

renlings

momobiya

koronemaru

sarashina

kizmel

oiranzaka

byoubugaura

degoshi

nihashi

seviathan

narfidort

mutasina

shigemura

baljure

shinei (TRADED)

tybur

pendoragon

kogasaki

kelai

kosameda

jeskar

melromarc

shildina

motopy

kaginoji

nochizawa

nifuji (TRADED)

patzzi

pawaa

jendeugi

momoma

emhi

yuuho

tsuboi

riuny

soerry

woolsburg

stolast

shookok

takadono

sekime

kamiji

yamabishi

senagaki

sonozaki-noriko

[shrunkupthejams]

WIP Intro but I have too much ADHD for this Edition: Timekeeper Kiddos 

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About title: I would like to say, for the record, that the Loki show didn't exist when I named this WIP and I had no clue what Marvel's timekeepers were. AND, for the record, I think Marvel's timekeepers are stupid and mine are way better. With that aside, I don't remember how the word timekeeper came to me, but it was certainly reminiscent of timepiece (like a watch). Timekeepers in this story really have nothing to do with time, they're more gods of different aspects that crawled out of a crack between worlds/dimensions and seem like video game characters. 

---

About: This one came to me in a dream, actually. While I'm considering making this into a series that follows the lives of the main characters from their teenage years to adulthood and having kids of their own, the main focus of the story happens when they are in high school. It's the beginning of grade 11, and while hanging out in the mountains that surround the small town of Anderson Creek, six friends (and Chaz) find something peculiar—an impossible arena through a door carved into the mountainside. They quickly discover that the arena is a fantastical PVP battle arena, like in a video game, and that while dueling in the arena, no harm that comes to them on the arena floor affects them off of it—injuries from duels disappear as soon as you step out of bounds. This amazing find has a downside, however: the apparently fictitious deities—the Timekeepers—whose powers they take on in the arena are starting to slip into this world, taking more control over the players. Their powers are starting to occur out of the arena, too. As the lines between the arena and the real world blur, these seven kids must band together to send the Timekeepers back to their reality before someone gets seriously hurt. (The main characters are Oaken, Lydia, Emhy, Yoshi, Jungho, Chiara, and Chaz btw. Wasn't sure where to fit that into the explanation.) 

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Setting: Anderson Creek, a fictional small town in interior B.C. in 2003. (We're not talking about why I chose 2003 but there sure is a reason.)

---

Featuring: a surprising amount of LGBTQ+ people for a small town in BC for the early 2000s; drama (they're teenagers in high school, it's basically a given); stargazing; and the consequences of your actions catching up to you. 

---

Playlists: There is truly a concerning amount of playlists that I have for this bad boy, but in my defense it's ensemble cast and I've practically planned out Oaken's entire life, so… 

There are more than I can actually link like that, so here are the less important ones: harvey's playlist; ginny's playlist; oaken after tmkp kiddos; chazoak au; jungho at psu au.

wip stuff taglist: @multi-lefaiye