#High Resolution Nature Pictures

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

10 Ways to Add Sizzle to Your Boring Writing

Writing that sizzles captures the reader's attention and keeps them engaged from start to finish. Whether you're an experienced writer or just starting out, there are several techniques you can use to make your writing more exciting and dynamic. Here are ten detailed ways to add sizzle to your boring writing:

1. Use Vivid Descriptions

Vivid descriptions bring your writing to life by creating a rich, immersive experience for the reader. Instead of relying on generic or bland language, use specific details that appeal to the senses. Describe how things look, sound, smell, taste, and feel to paint a vivid picture.

In Detail:

Visual Descriptions: Use color, shape, and size to create a mental image. Instead of saying "The car was old," say "The rusty, olive-green car wheezed as it pulled into the driveway."

Sound Descriptions: Incorporate onomatopoeia and detailed sound descriptions. Instead of "The music was loud," say "The bass thumped, and the high notes pierced through the night air."

Smell and Taste Descriptions: Use sensory language. Instead of "The food was good," say "The aroma of roasted garlic and herbs filled the room, and the first bite was a burst of savory flavors."

2. Show, Don't Tell

"Show, don't tell" is a fundamental writing principle that means revealing information through actions, thoughts, dialogue, and sensory details rather than straightforward exposition. This approach makes your writing more engaging and allows readers to experience the story.

In Detail:

Actions Over Exposition: Instead of telling the reader "Jane was scared," show her fear through her actions: "Jane's hands trembled as she fumbled with the lock, her breath coming in shallow gasps."

Dialogue: Use conversations to reveal character traits and emotions. Instead of "John was angry," show his anger through his words and tone: "John's voice was a low growl as he said, 'I can't believe you did this.'"

Internal Thoughts: Reveal characters' inner worlds. Instead of "Emma felt relieved," show her relief: "Emma let out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding and sank into the chair, a smile tugging at her lips."

3. Create Relatable Characters

Relatable characters are crucial for keeping readers invested in your story. Characters should have depth, including strengths, weaknesses, desires, and fears. When readers see aspects of themselves in your characters, they're more likely to care about their journeys.

In Detail:

Character Flaws: Give your characters realistic flaws. A perfect character can be boring and unrelatable. Show how these flaws impact their decisions and relationships.

Character Arcs: Ensure your characters grow and change throughout the story. A well-crafted character arc can turn a good story into a great one.

Background and Motivations: Provide backstories and motivations. Why does your character act the way they do? What drives them? This adds depth and makes them more three-dimensional.

4. Add Dialogue

Dialogue can break up large blocks of text and make your writing more dynamic. It reveals character, advances the plot, and provides opportunities for conflict and resolution. Ensure your dialogue sounds natural and serves a purpose.

In Detail:

Natural Speech: Write dialogue that sounds like real conversation, complete with interruptions, pauses, and colloquial language. Avoid overly formal or stilted speech.

Purposeful Dialogue: Every line of dialogue should have a purpose, whether it's revealing character, advancing the plot, or building tension. Avoid filler conversations that don't add to the story.

Subtext: Use subtext to add depth. Characters might say one thing but mean another, revealing their true feelings through what they don't say directly.

5. Use Strong Verbs

Strong verbs make your writing more vivid and energetic. They convey action and emotion effectively, making your sentences more powerful and engaging.

In Detail:

Action Verbs: Choose verbs that show precise actions. Instead of "She went to the store," say "She dashed to the store."

Avoid Weak Verbs: Replace weak verbs and verb phrases with stronger alternatives. Instead of "He was walking," say "He strode."

Emotionally Charged Verbs: Use verbs that convey specific emotions. Instead of "She was sad," say "She wept."

6. Vary Sentence Structure

Varying sentence structure keeps your writing interesting and prevents it from becoming monotonous. Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more complex ones to create a rhythm that engages readers.

In Detail:

Short Sentences for Impact: Use short sentences to create tension, urgency, or emphasize a point. "He stopped. Listened. Nothing."

Complex Sentences for Detail: Use longer sentences to provide detailed descriptions or explain complex ideas. "As the sun set behind the mountains, the sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the serene landscape."

Combine Different Structures: Mix simple, compound, and complex sentences to maintain a natural flow. Avoid repetitive patterns that can make your writing feel flat.

7. Introduce Conflict

Conflict is the driving force of any story. It creates tension and keeps readers invested in the outcome. Without conflict, your story can become stagnant and uninteresting.

In Detail:

Internal Conflict: Characters should struggle with internal dilemmas, fears, and desires. This adds depth and relatability.

External Conflict: Introduce obstacles and challenges that characters must overcome. This can be other characters, societal pressures, or natural forces.

Resolution: Show how conflicts are resolved, leading to character growth and plot progression. Ensure resolutions feel earned and satisfying.

8. Use Metaphors and Similes

Metaphors and similes add creativity and depth to your writing. They help readers understand complex ideas and emotions by comparing them to familiar experiences.

In Detail:

Metaphors: Directly state that one thing is another to highlight similarities. "Time is a thief."

Similes: Use "like" or "as" to make comparisons. "Her smile was like sunshine on a rainy day."

Avoid Clichés: Create original comparisons rather than relying on overused phrases. Instead of "busy as a bee," find a fresh analogy.

9. Create Suspense

Suspense keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eager to find out what happens next. Use foreshadowing, cliffhangers, and unanswered questions to build tension and anticipation.

In Detail:

Foreshadowing: Drop subtle hints about future events. This creates anticipation and a sense of inevitability.

Cliffhangers: End chapters or sections with unresolved tension or unanswered questions to compel readers to keep going.

Pacing: Control the pace of your story to build suspense. Slow down for crucial moments and speed up during action scenes.

10. Edit Ruthlessly

Great writing often emerges during the editing process. Be willing to cut unnecessary words, tighten your prose, and refine your sentences. Editing improves clarity, pace, and overall readability.

In Detail:

Cut Redundancies: Remove unnecessary words and repetitive phrases. "In my opinion, I think" can be reduced to "I think."

Focus on Clarity: Ensure each sentence conveys its intended meaning clearly and concisely.

Proofread: Check for grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. A polished manuscript reflects professionalism and attention to detail.

[cazhan]

Useful Resources for CC creators & others who interested in art

I'm done gatekeeping so i thought i'd share my list of very cool websites (mostly flickr pages) with my fellow creators or just people who interested in arts. Almost all art from this sites have public domain copyrights, meaning you can use it however you want (in most cases even sell) without giving credits, but be sure to check copyrights under pictures on flickr. Links:

British Library - (flickr) thousands of scans from books and posters, has animals, nature, ornaments, paintings of people. Very useful for tattoos, prints and design in general.

Boston Public Library - (flickr) scans of posters, books and postcards, also has vintage photos but most of them copyrighted, so make sure to check for rights under every photo. My personal favorite is painted postcards, check them out.

The Library of Congress - (flickr) vintage photos and most of them doesn't have copyrights, very cool for graphic design.

Biodiversity Heritage Library - (flickr) paintings of animals, snakes, birds, bugs, fish, nature. My fav page from flickr.

Swallowtail Garden Seeds - (flickr) photos and painting of flowers. Good for reference.

Artvee - I LOVE this website. All paintings under public domain in high resolution. You can type in keyword to search for specific painting of something, you can save pics for later or follow artists, there's thousand of choices. I just love it and you should too.

(if u see spelling mistakes look away)

[powpowhammer]

hyrule snap is of course the hit new video game for nintendo switch that has swept the globe to almost universal acclaim. @nightpool and @ot3 wanted to see some of my "nature photography" (part 2 here)

I would consider these 'perfect' animal shots; they're high contrast and there's even more than one animal in the larger shot for most of them. I spent an hour of in-game time staked out to get the arowana leaping

these are shots I like but will retake at some point to get bigger or with higher contrast. you are rewarded by physically getting close to your quarry--one thing totk did is actually reduce the 'resolution' of your photos as you zoom in. I have a lot of very zoomed-in bird pics with 'pixels' the size of a man

these are likewise perfect monster shots. note the octorok's projectile about to clock me clean upside the head

these monster pics will get reshot but I really like the poses I got. the wheezing wizzrobe who just needs a second. the top ten anime moments before black moblin disaster. the boss boko with his ducklings is funny to me; I just have to get the picture physically closer and on a sunnier day (hyrule doesn't have a real golden hour, either)

bonus: I like to shoot equipment in situ when possible. local twink jailed for taking creepshots, claimed 'was just trying to get a good angle on the gerudo scimitar'

[luveline]

radio cure | steve harrington

an unhappy you meets steve harrington and his merry band of dorks. he shows you that some things are worth sticking around for.

5k words, fem!reader she/her used, tw mentioned/implied suicidal ideation please don’t read if that’s going to have a negative impact on you (no graphic imagery. but reader is passively suicidal and dealing with the other factors of that), robin steve + eddie chaotic trio, friends to lovers, multipart, swearing, friendly teasing, sarcasm, artist!steve, 90s au

.•° ✿ °•.

You're twenty two when you decide to kill yourself.

It's a warm day. The sun shines like a flower bud unfurling, a faint hint of golden yellow masked by cloud cover. You're savouring the brief moment of blessed cool as you walk around Lover's Lake, your ipod in one hand, headphones around your neck.

The flowing pants you're wearing help mitigate the heat around your legs, an itching, slick thing. Warmth feels like oil on your skin. You tip your head back and smell the grass, the lake water, the dry mud under your feet. You're thinking it's as nice a day as you're going to get this week, and you're forlorn, because it doesn't make one drop of difference.

You look up at the blue sky, squinting against the light, and you think it to yourself resolutely. This is going to be my last year. When your savings run out you're giving up.

It doesn't feel conclusive. It doesn't feel scary. It's just a decision.

You walk over dry grass until you reach the short pier on the leftmost side of the lake and sit down. You pull your headphones over your ears and bite your lip when the music isn't loud enough. The dock is rough. You're uncomfortable immediately. You want to go home, but you pull out your little craft sketchbook made of yellow paper and a pencil you've sharpened with a pen knife, staring out across the lake for something to strike you. A duck. A goose. Anything at all.

The thing is, you don't want to draw. You aren't some master, though you try, and you aren't a natural talent… You try sometimes. Nothing seems right. Most people have a style, charm, but you could draw a picture perfect copy of the day in front of you and still feel the lack; you have no idea what it is that makes other people's art beautiful, and that's the problem.

It doesn't matter. You put the sketchbook away. You have nobody to impress but yourself, and besides — you're not the first person in the world to feel uninspired. Thousands of people must feel it everyday, and they aren't throwing any pity parties. You peel off your cardigan, ball it up, and lay down with the fabric behind your head. You can hear the soft pant of a dog across the way, the happy chattering of a Frisbee game. Under the dock, little bodies thwack the planks, tiny green frogs that occasionally hop in the grass nearby.

You press your arm against your stomach and you fall asleep not long after that, your ipod playing music a few feet away.

—

Steve Harrington doesn't know why he stops to look at you. You're just a girl enjoying the summer sun, and he doesn't mean to be a creep. But you've left your stuff laying in small hills around you and your body's lax. You're asleep.

He kneels down next to you. Enough room to swing away if you try to stab him for perving. He isn't perving, he reasons. He wants to check if you're okay.

He tilts his ear toward you and holds his breath.

You're snoring.

Good, he thinks, crawling back to the far side of the dock, at least two feet between you. You're sleeping.

He sits down, knees up, hands between his thighs, and looks out across the lake. The sun shines high as the clouds shift to reveal it in full force, a burning yolk. It kisses every bit of green foliage it can find, dappled sunlight everywhere he looks. Steve is out today to draw whatever beauty he can find, and the light across the water riding the rippled waves of ducklings and brave human swimmers seems nice enough. He peers out of the corner of his eye at you, deems you still sleeping, and takes the pocket sized sketchbook out of his denim jeans.

His pencil is a stub folded between the pages. He lays down graphite in big sweeping lines, more focused on the impressions of shape than the specifics. It's hard to see a coloured world in black and white values. Steve isn't great — he's been drawing for two years now, and that feels like both a lifetime and a flicker. Every day he learns something new about making art, and every day he looks back and feels embarrassed at what he made before. The start of his sketchbooks make him cringe. This one is a mixture of pride and tepid reluctance.

Being bad at something is a stepping stone at getting better. Not every drawing he makes is good, but hopefully it's teaching his brain to be better. He doesn't know what he believes about art but he likes to draw, and he has gotten better.

The point isn't in being good, he'd told Robin. I just need something to do. Before I go crazy doing nothing. 

He draws the lake. He loves the way it comes into being. Ten minutes can turn grey splotches into trees, and bluegrass, and the heat rising off of the water. He draws a duck when it swims really close, though he has to abandon it when it swims away, leaving a half formed lovecraftian creature to haunt the page. He draws the dock, and his shoes, and your shoes, and your hand curled weakly next to your ipod. He draws your wrist, though he stops quickly.

He looks at your sleeping face.

Steve thinks you don't look like anyone he's ever seen before. He notes your lashes, your brows, and your nose. The sun emphasises the fine hairs across your cheek, and the texture beneath them.

He wants to draw your face, but he thinks drawing your hand and your shoes might have been too much without permission. He lets you sleep for a while, and then when he realises the heat is making him dizzy, he can't leave you there to bake.

He rips a sheet of paper out of his sketchbook and shoves the small book back into his pocket. The dock groans as he stands, and he casts a shadow over your face and upper torso.

"Hey," he says.

You flinch awake.

"Don't panic," he says, which is something a pervert might say, so he amends, "don't freak out, I'm just worried you're gonna cook your brains. I didn't want you to get sick."

You sit up. You look kinda cooked already, blinking and disoriented.

"You okay?"

You don't look up. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you for waking me up."

"Yeah, sure. Here."

He holds out the drawing of your hand. He doesn't think it's good, doesn't want you to see it, but he already did it. Giving it to you will ease his guilty conscience.

It's unlike Steve to bail, but he bails. Your fingers are barely brushing the paper when he's wiping his palms on his thighs and stepping away.

"Bye," he says, uncertain. "Try not to fall asleep again!"

—

It's not so weird. Sure, he'd made your fingers skinnier than they really are, and he made your shoelaces look like spaghetti, but they're good drawings.

You're trying to read a book in the corner of Benny's when he finds you a second time. He hovers, and you're not cool, you aren't, you're working with what you've got. Not many people skills.

“Hi,” he says.

"They were good drawings," you say, in lieu of your own hello, thumbing at the pages of your book all full of jumpy nerves.

"Thank you, I'm… new to it. My best friend, she's– she's actually nicer than she should be about them, I can't lie. I was going to say she thinks I should be banned from picking up a pencil, because I wanted to make you laugh, but. She's nice when it matters."

You can't keep looking down, it wouldn't be polite. You dog ear your paperback and let it lie against the tabletop, greasy to touch but you doubt it'll make a difference. The book is old and had cost you 50 cents at Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's yard sale.

He's tall. Hair falls around his face and curls gently against his cheeks, a sandy brown. He's wearing a hat. He hadn't been wearing one the day he'd given you his drawings, but you can understand why he needs it. The sun is an inescapable force: sun stroke has half the town down for the count. The whole reason that you're in Benny's is because it's air-conditioned and shady.

"Do you want to come and eat with me and my friends?"

You say no automatically. "No, that's okay. I don't wanna," —you don't know what to say, so your voice hikes up awkwardly— "impose."

"You don't have to, but if you want to, you're not imposing." He twists at the waist and nods to a booth across the room, where a boy and girl sit. When they see you seeing them they look away. "Sorry, they're dorks. There's usually more of us, but Jon's in work and Nancy's in Emerson, so…" He seizes up.

You wonder why people are so afraid of being awkward. It terrifies you, to think one day you'll fuck up and be awkward and the other person will remember it and laugh, but looking at him now, you can't see why it matters. It actually makes you feel better, knowing he's worried too.

"I only brought enough for the milkshake," you say.

"I'll get you something."

"That's– no, that's okay."

He hesitates. "You'd be doing me a favour. I love them, really, but I can't stand it when they're together, they bully me."

It would probably be worse to reject his offer and sit here lonely while they laugh and talk. You'll worry they're talking about you.

"Okay," you mumble, picking up your book and your milkshake.

He grins at you and you follow him through the diner. It's not busy today, but there's still feet to fall over and backpack straps to tread on, so you watch the floor.

"My name is Steve, by the way."

You tell him your own name, which brings another quick smile to his face. He slows as he approaches the booth of his friends and beckons for you to slide into the empty side before following you in.

"Guys, this is– Eddie, what the fuck is that? We said no gross shit at the table."

"This, my friend," Eddie says, words rolling around his mouth grandly, "is a monster."

It's a little man made of coffee stirrers, sporks, and chewing gum seams. It's kind of gross, but it's cute. Grossly cute and cutely gross.

"We're about to eat."

"You're stepping on his artistic licence," says the girl, her voice distinctly pretty and a tiny bit hoarse.

"Disgusting," Steve says.

You shift on the leather chair underneath you and anxiety pulses in the bottom of your stomach. They're ignoring you, but not really. Both have lifted their eyes to look at you, and, in sync, they smile. The girl's smile is startling, lip gloss lips and white teeth. Eddie's is softer, less happy and more reassuring.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie says, though you'd figured it out. "That's Robin. Do you think my monster is gross in the gross way or gross in the sick way?"

"He's cute," you admit to thinking. "But the gum…"

"I didn't have any glue."

"Steve told us about his drawings. If he's holding you hostage right now, blink three times, okay?" Robin jokes.

Eddie and Robin lean their shoulders together and start a bit where they count your blinks. There's murmurings about shelters and how they can definitely throat punch Steve hard enough to make him mute. You're stunned at being the object of a joke and don't know how to react, feeling like you've been whacked and now there's cartoon birds flying around your head and they can all see them.

Steve grabs the menus out of the rack and slaps one down in front of everybody. "Alright, team. You know the drill. Last person to choose what they want has to buy drinks." He spares you a glance. "Except you. She's on me because hostages don't pay for themselves."

"I would make such a pretty hostage," Eddie says.

He is pretty, in fairness. Dark curls thick with baby hairs frizzed up in the summer heat frame a pale face. He has big brown eyes.

“And talented,” Robin adds, poking the gum man until he falls flat on his face. The head pops off and Eddie shrieks, not loudly but with a passionate upset about him that makes you laugh.

Steve leans over. “Please choose quickly so I don’t have to pay for Robin's lemonade addiction. No pressure.”

“I’ll just have what you have.”

“With a coke?”

“Sure.”

“Robin?” he asks.

“I want a cheeseburger with a lemonade and then, if you will, another lemonade.”

She dumps her menu in Eddie’s lap, who looks up from his decapitated figure with a look of defeat.

“Wh- hey, she cheated. She hurt my dude.”

“Rules are rules.”

Eddie sulks and accepts everybody’s money. He slinks up to the window like an annoyed cat. After he’s placed the order, he looks back to the table and flips the bird covertly.

“So, how old are you?” Robin asks.

“Twenty two.”

“How’s that?” she asks sympathetically.

“Robin.” Steve chides. “She’s twenty so she thinks she’s a baby.”

“I am a baby. This is my first year not being a teen, which means it’s my first year as an adult. I’m one.”

“We have this argument a lot,” Steve says, though not with any bravado. Simple explanation, his voice soft and warm. “When being an adult actually begins. It’s not the adult part that even matters, it’s the not having rules that fucks people up. Look at Eddie. He’s been out of school for a year and he’s been arrested three times.”

You frown, not because his getting arrested would bother you (depending on the charge), but because you’re surprised, and surprise is quick to appear as anger on your face. His shirt and rockstar rings, his nice smile, his gum man — you’d assumed he was a huge nerd. His arrests are a surprise.

“What for?” you ask, before you can remind yourself that invasive questions are rude.

“Once for indecent exposure– completely accidental. Once for trespassing, and the last time was because he chained himself to a tree outside of Tawny’s bar. They weren’t cutting the tree down,” Steve says. “He, and I quote, wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Don’t give away my RAP sheet when I’m not here,” Eddie says, placing a tray of drinks on the table carefully. Three cokes and two lemonades.

“It’s not a RAP sheet if you don’t actually get in trouble. They let him off ‘cause they know his uncle. And also ‘cause it’s Hawkins.” Robin slides her slice of lemon between her teeth, shepherding her two lemonades as far away from everybody as she can, looking extremely hedgy. “I’s a bitch sheet.”

Eddie feigns for her second lemon slice and snickers when Robin defends it, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

“I paid for it!” he says through laughs.

Your hands start to shake. You hide them under the lip of the table but it’s no use. Soon your legs are shaking, your arms, all of you. They’re minute tremors, both invisible and impossible to ignore. You glue a smile to your face and try to calm down. You’re overwhelmed and you don’t know why — this isn’t a new feeling. You are not the first person to feel this feeling.

Then why does it feel like it?

Sometimes, everything gets so scary so quickly, and you sit there wondering why it isn’t scary for everybody else, and you wonder why they can’t see it on your face how scared you are, and they must see it? They must know you’re fucked.

You’re shot with thoughts. These people, you could be friends. All you have to do is make a good impression. But how should you go about that? How do you talk? What do you say?

“I draw too,” you say, hands clamped between your knees.

Steve’s eyebrows do this little dance. It’s adorable, and it makes you want to be his friend most of all.

“You do?”

“I do. I’m not good, I mean. I used to be better. I’m out of practice.”

“I draw,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Jonathan, too. God, you should see his shit. And he’s an even better photographer. But I draw shitty zine comics. And Robin does the typesetting for me.”

“Oh, wow,” you say genuinely.

“Nancy writes,” Robin says. “So we’re, like, a jerk circle of artists. She’s good, too.”

“She’s good,” Eddie imitates fondly. “I bet she is. Robin’s gonna be a great writer as well, once she gets all these private Nancy lessons.”

Steve puts a hand up and Eddie promptly shuts up. He takes a big, sheepish slurp of coke and you feel like you’ve said something wrong though you barely said anything at all, sipping at your own coke.

“What are you reading?” Robin asks.

You slide the book toward her so she can see for herself. “The Sea, The Sea,” you tell her. “It’s about, uh,” —you’ve only managed to read the first thirty pages, and that’s after reading the first ten five times straight— “this guy named Charles, he’s unique. He’s uh, annoying.”

“You know, Nancy used to have a book that looked just like that,” Steve says.

You laugh weakly. “It must be popular. I got it at a yard sale.”

“Can I open it?” Robin asks.

“Of course. It’s already pretty beat up, I don’t think there’s anything you could do—“

Robin opens the book with one hand, thumb and pinky fingertip pressed to either side, and tries to take a sip of her drink without looking, tipping her glass of lemonade straight into the pages of The Sea, The Sea. What doesn’t get soaked up by your book rushes down the length of the table and into her lap.

Steve reaches across the table to grab up the glass, but the damage is already done. Your lips part. Eddie gawps, throwing a hand over his slack-jawed face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says, looking at you with wide eyes. “I have the worst case of butterfingers ever, I’m sorry.”

It’s as if she can’t believe she did it. You fluster when you realise they’re all waiting for your reaction.

“It’s okay!” you say, as loud as you’ve ever spoken in public.

“You can be mad,” Steve assures you.

“No, it was an accident. I’m not mad, it cost fifty cents, and it was totally garbage anyway. I’m really not mad.”

Eddie stuffs napkins under the table and Robin shivers uncontrollably, dishing ice cubes from her lap and the seat. Steve, laughing now, says, “God dammit, Robs,” sounding like she might be the most golden person on the planet.

—

Steve works his hat over your hair the best that he can. “There. Now you won’t die from heat stroke.”

You bring both hands to the hat to encourage it down onto your head. “Steve,” you say, sounding unsure on how to continue.

“It’s on loan.”

You nod and look out over the lake, where Eddie stands at the edge of the dock. "It's getting way too fucking cold for this," he complains, in swim shorts and a shirt, gazing in distrust at the lake’s shimmering surface.

Lake is kind. It is technically a lake, but also technically a really, very pathetic lake that feeds from a pathetic tributary. If you stationed Steve on one side and you the other, he would strain to hear you talking. Likely infected with brain eating amoeba or tadpoles or leeches. Slimy things. It’s less disgusting than Lover’s Lake, a condom cesspit, so that’s a plus.

You aren’t looking any more eager about jumping in than you had been, thighs naked and kissed by the hem of an oversized, black t-shirt. It’s wrinkled. Steve kind of loves it.

"Just jump in, you big babies," Robin says.

She'd already jumped in, screamed at the cold, and now languishes in the chest height water in front of the small fishing dock with a smug smile on her face. "Not you," she says to you. Steve rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, hair slipping out of the hat. You sigh as you pull it off and readjust the sizing band.

"I guess I am being a baby,” you say to him quietly. “The sun’s been out all day, how cold can it be?” You’re not feeling confident. It seeps into your voice, to which Steve lends a placating smile.

"Really fucking cold."

"Eddie, shut up. Y/N, it's fine. You'll like it."

“I really don’t think she’ll like it.”

Steve doesn’t either, but he wants you to feel included, and less tense. Distract you from whatever it is that’s giving you such a big case of the frownies, and prove he and his friends aren’t just book-ruining hooligans.

Eddie finally jumps in over Robin’s head, disappearing into the not quite blue water with a cut-off curse. He appears again a few seconds later, black hair slicked to his face, neck and shoulders, wiping the water from his eyes as he splutters and giggles boyishly.

“Shit, Stevie,” he says. “Not that cold after all.”

“You don’t have to jump in, you can just ease off the dock, if that’s better,” Steve says.

“Frogspawn,” you murmur.

Steve does a bunch of flexing, throws in a jumping jack for good measure. “Alright,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

You shake your head gently.

Steve doesn’t wanna embarrass you further, or insist when you really don’t want to, so he nods and smiles and takes a running jump into the lake. Robin and Eddie both swear and dart away as his body collides with the surface of the water, and he sinks like a well-practised stone to near enough the lake bed, feet gracing slippery pond weed and things he’d rather not think about. The air shatters out of his lungs and the water, despite the summer sun, is cold. It feels amazing — he hadn’t realised how warm he was until the temperature abruptly shifted.

He rushes back up to the surface and shakes his hair out like a dog, water running down his face and shoulders in fast thick rivulets. He peels his eyes open and turns to find you still hesitating on the dock. Robin splashes at Steve in retaliation for his hair splatters and Eddie laughs evilly as he joins in.

“Come on!” he begs you. “I told you, they bully me! I need back up!”

You toss his hat on the dock. The jump you take into the lake is timid but enough to miss the frogspawn and not break your legs, a cold splash of water and you’re there. Luckily, your presence has Robin and Eddie both stopping in their cruel tracks, and you don’t have to save Steve after all.

Your happy laughter is stunning.

"It's so cold!" you squeal, water in your eyelashes.

Eddie takes one of your hands and together the four of your tread into deeper water.

"Now that all who can be present are present," he says, falling into his dungeon master drawl, "it's time we commence the The Tournament. Swimmers, take your stations."

Everyone falls into line. You don't know what you're falling into line for, raising your timid voice to ask, "What's the game?"

"The game is me and you dunk the ever-loving out of dumb and dumber," he says.

"Hey, what?" Robin asks. "How come you get her? She's a total wild card, she might win the game all by herself."

"Or she might really suck. We don't know, and so in the interest of fairness, I propose she swims with me." Eddie's wet sleeve sticks to your skin as he nudges you. "But you don't suck, do you?"

"Um…"

"Attagirl. On your marks, get set, go!"

You spend an hour like that. Steve and Co, they're stupid, but they aren't stupid stupid. The Tournament is a series of chasing and dunking (stupid but fun) wherein you get to throw yourself on the shoulders of the person you're chasing and submerge them (stupid again). You can't hold them down, though, they aren't trying to drown one another. Much.

The sun regretfully starts to set. If it's anything like the last few days, that means it's likely near 10PM, and they're all working tomorrow.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Steve asks in concern, after he's heaved himself up onto one of the huge stones on the opposite side of the lake.

Cattails obscure you from view on your own stone. Across the lake, your possessions lay thankfully unscathed on the dock. Robin sits as close as she can to Steve on his rock, kicking water at Eddie every time he tries to approach.

"You fucking rat," he fumes, mouth full of lake water.

"I'm not really working right now,” you say.

"Do you need a job?" Eddie asks. "They're hiring— Harrington, restrain your creature! They're hiring at the Palace Arcade, aren't they?"

Steve nods voraciously. "Yeah! Hey, we can get you an interview no problem, they probably won't even ask you that many questions. I mean, Keith worked there."

"Don't be mean about Keith," Robin says, though she doesn't really like him. He thinks it's akin to defending your deadbeat older brother.

"I don't know, I think even a couple of questions might be too many," you worry.

"How come?"

You pull the fluff off of a cat tail, and it explodes in your hands. Steve yanks one down to do the same, watching the fibres float across the lake's disturbed surface with a cool breeze. Robin shivers beside him, sensitive to the cold in her wet clothes, the adrenaline of swimming and almost but not really dying wearing off.

"I'm bad at stuff like that."

"I don't think anyone's good at interviews at our age," Eddie says, nose wrinkled as cat tail floats toward him. "We're, like, babies."

"I always feel like I'm really old," you confess. You look down at your naked knees. "Like I wasted all the good years already."

"What, school?"

"And the four years since," you say.

Steve gets it, in a way. His high school years sucked, and he'd maybe thought he'd get out of Hawkins on a track or swim scholarship, basketball — anything. But he's here still, and at first that hadn't been what he wanted. Sure, he'd expected it, but in different ways.

Steve pushes back the cattails to see you clearly. "I didn't even get any real good years until just now," he says, as kindly as he can.

"I failed senior year twice," Eddie speaks up, "I kinda thought I was wasting my life too, but if I didn't, I wouldn't even know Robin, and she's, like, my best friend."

He throws his hands over his face before Steve can kick a huge wave of lake water into his eyes. "Get your own," Steve fumes. He's not really mad.

"Yeah, these are the good years," Robin says, "probably. I never had guys fighting over me in high school." She laughs and tucks her wet hair behind her ears, her freckled cheeks pale in the oranging light of the sunset.

You hold your hands out for Eddie and he finally climbs onto one of the rocks. From this side of the lake, you can watch the sun set behind the silhouettes of Hawkins town a half mile away. It dips slowly down, meandering almost, a pearl sinking through layers of raspberry pink and orange and, as Steve holds his breath, that sudden flash of electric green.

"I'm blind," Eddie mumbles, falling back into the rocks and grass.

"Shit, that was cool." Robin stands up and stretches. "I'm so cold I'm gonna die right here. Steve, do you still have a blanket in your car?"

Steve looks over at you again. You look shell-shocked, not quite awed. He doesn't know what emotion you're feeling, only that you're feeling it, eyes wide and set across the lake at the darkened sky, lights from the buildings like stars shimmering in your pupils.

He stands up and offers his hand to you. When you take it, he pulls you up without hesitation, not a flicker of doubt or an ounce of struggle.

"I'll get you that interview," he says, questioning, soft. If you want it. 

Your fingers linger in his palm.

"Yeah, okay. Thank you."

"Come on!" Robin says, taking your other hand and tugging without apology, barefoot over the asphalt path surrounding the lake. "Before the gnats come out."

"We might see fireflies if we stick around," Eddie says.

They bicker. Steve lets go of your hand and you and Robin walk just ahead, your head bobbing between his two arguing friends like you're watching a quickfire tennis match.

You turn to the side and hide a smile. Steve sees it, and he figures it's a start.

"Munson," he hollers, "how about you stay and watch the fireflies and you tell us all about it? Me and the girls aren't gonna freeze out here so you can get back in touch with nature."

It's a bad joke, but it works. "Fuck you, Harrington. The ladies wanna see the lightning bugs, don't you?"

"I can't remember the last time I saw them," you say.

"Then we have to stay," Eddie says smugly.

You all crowd the back of Steve's car, the heaters on but not doing a lot, the blanket stretched over Robin's shoulders. She tucks it behind your back, and you all look out to the night and scout for bugs.

"There," you whisper, pointing.

Green dots of light rise from the dry grass like tiny lanterns, a handful at a time.

"Jonathan's gonna be sad he missed this," Robin murmurs.

You try to count them all. Four voices whispering bets into the night air, though the real number isn't possible to calculate. "Winner gets a new paperback on Robin," Eddie jokes, swiftly quietened by a barrage of elbows to his side.

They let you win.

[babygorewhore]

Act of Contrition

James Patrick March x Virgin! Reader.

Inspired by a post by @ahsjpm

On Halloween night, you’re alone as James is participating in Devils night. As a Christian, you’re often modest and found in prayer. But James habits inspire you to engage in your deepest fantasies.

WARNINGS! Porn with little plot. Virgin! Reader. Violence! Murder! Oral! Male and female recieving! Bondage! Light degrading! Dom! Reader. Sub! James. Brief PnV! Use of religion disrespectfully lol.

Your fingers were locked together as your nostrils inhaled the warm meal in front of you. Your prayers typically were kept short during dinner time, as you were eager to dive in but tonight you needed the strength. It was Halloween. You opened your eyes, resisting the urge to scratch at your lash line. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“You still pray? Honey, you’re sleeping with a ghost. If there’s a God, I think he forgot about this place.” Sally taunted you.

Your partner, James Patrick March wasn’t with you tonight. Opting you to sit at one of the tables in the main lobby of the Cortez. The spirits of this building kept you company whenever James was away and they were the only company he somewhat trusted with you. Tonight was the infamous Devils night along with the celebration of the holiday.

You hadn’t been with James very long. Sally was incorrect on your intimate status with him but you didn’t dare correct her. James explained that the ghosts of past murderers dined with him on this occasion and frankly, you were too afraid to participate.

He chastised you only briefly before he understood. It was something you cherished about him. He tried his best to accommodate your apprehensions. You toyed with the fork after you took a bite. You almost ordered a alcohol beverage but often you and James would enjoy a night cap.

You dressed up. It was primarily a joke since your modest dressing drew criticism from others. Knee high fishnet stockings up your thicker thighs, wider than a majority of women. A black hip length coat, a low cut white shirt that accentuated your full breasts. A wide black cross in the center. Your hair was styled last minute. Your makeup was dark and sultry as you gingerly tried to eat without smudging your lipstick.

Your high heels clicked together as you shifted in your chair.

“Sally, be easy on the girl. Let her enjoy her faith in peace.” Liz interjected but you knew she was joking. They sat adjacent to you. You didn’t blame them for mocking your beliefs given their current states as ghosts but James never ridiculed you.

Before sleeping, you lowered yourself to your knees and prayed for the safety of yourself and your family. The first night when James saw you, you expected him to laugh but instead, he gave you a warm smile and said, “I’ll give you a moment of privacy, my dear.”

A sensation of tugging brought your attention back to the present. You looked up, Sally was toying with the chain of your wrap around cross bracelet. Her dark lipstick was smudged from drinking but she gave you a quick smile anyway. She pulled out her phone, her lifeline. “Do you mind?”

You were camera shy by nature but Sally had few pleasures. You nodded. “Yes. Do you want to take a picture of my bracelet or my whole costume?”

“Your whole outfit. Everyone will want to see a slutty nun.” You huffed but obliged.

You modeled for her and she finally broke out into a pleased grin. She stepped away from you, typing away and you smooth your shirt. You weren’t hungry anymore, too preoccupied with James activity. Could you do it? Bypass your fears and join him? You missed him and his affectionate gestures.

You straightened your shoulders with a resolution. “Don’t worry about your plate, I’ll get it.” Your head snapped towards Liz’s direction. As if she was reading your mind.

You could do this. You could be brave. James wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. And you could run quickly if you needed.

The hallways felt closed in, daunting like a countdown as you trailed toward James room. You quieted your breathing to somehow conceal your vulnerability. With the dimmed lights, it was difficult to keep steady in your heels as you narrowed in towards his door. Your hand wrapped around the handle, a quiet noise of scraping came as your bracelet scratched the gold.

Pushing the door, you blinked as the brighter light peeked at you as you stepped inside.

You opened your mouth to greet James but you froze. Several other men were at the table but they weren’t sitting. Instead, they stood and started cheering. Wildly clapping and chanting, “Ten commandments killer!” Your hand went to your mouth.

James held a man by his hair with one hand and his other continuously rammed his long blade all over his torso. His knife plunged deep and with purpose. Your teeth chattered as he yanked it free and slit it across his throat. Blood coated his hands, danced on his normally immaculate suit and even splattered on his face. His smile was wicked and he started to laugh. Proudly and heartily from his chest.

“James,” You whispered in fear. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard but somehow another presence caught his attention and he met your terrorized stare.

James smile immediately dropped and he released his victim. “Darling-“ He tried to speak in a alarmingly gentle tone in contrast to his animalistic action.

You spun around on your heels and ran out. You didn’t take off your shoes so you couldn’t sprint but the surrounding rooms blurred together. Across the hallway was a balcony and you cling to the rails. Your fingers tighten around the white bars and you pant. He slaughtered again. Brutally. Your bravery was misplaced. You should have stayed downstairs.

But this small moment of terror could never erase your feelings for him.

You closed the bedroom door behind you after an hour passed. You pressed your back against the wood. You needed the time to think. Consider how to approach James with your feelings. You prayed. Begged God to give you clarity and strength. Sitting on the bed, you contemplated taking off your costume, Halloween was nearly over now. You weren’t in the mood to go out and celebrate. You didn’t want to be without him.

But he lied to you. He promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

He needs to endure the consequences.

Standing, you intended to go the bathroom and wash off your makeup when a voice caught your attention.

“Y/n, my love.” James’s eyes were glazed over with regret as you faced him.

He engulfed your hands and pulled you close to him. His lips pressed against your neck with urgency, “Darling, you weren’t supposed to see this. I know you disapprove.” You stepped away from him and set your mouth.

“James. I just wanted to be with you tonight. But you insist on traditions. Of course I want to honor this but to walk in on such a thing, it’s madness.” You went to step away from him but he rushed around. Gripping your shoulders.

“My dear, I can’t be in ill standing with you. Tell me what I can do. Tell me how to earn your forgiveness.” You shook your head, crossing your arms but something…tightened in you. At the account of his pleas.

James Patrick March wasn’t one to ask for forgiveness. He didn’t show remorse. And he never showed a shred of submission. Being a partner to a ghost wasn’t morally clear according to Christianity. You couldn’t hold him to the same standards as a human. In his past, he was a killer. Despite his promises that he grew tired of murder, you couldn’t remove the gleeful grin across his face as he slashed a man’s throat from your mind.

James enjoyed the applause. It seemed to drive him. Attention. Praise. Devotion. You always knew once you gave into him, that he would pry every ounce of worship from you.

You would offer it. Without a single thought of resistance.

He lowered himself down, fingers ghosting over your clothes as he settled on his knees before you. His wide palms cupped your thighs and his black gaze torturously raked over your stockings. “You look irresistible, my little mouse. Powerful. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I am your slave, y/n. Take me however you wish.”

Your bracelet covered hand cupped his cheek, stroking his skin with your thumb. A darkness clouded you, deep and hungry urges clawed inside you like a disease. You couldn’t resist anymore. He willing to abide every command.

Fuck it.

“James, you need to cleanse your conscience. Confess to me. Tell me how wrong it was.” You lifted your chin and his brows raised. A sign of hope.

“This is a religious practice, yes? Do you want me to pray, my love? I will for you.”

“Tell me how bad you were. How could you disobey me?” Your voice was lower, husky and it caused him to shiver.

“I shouldn’t have. I-I don’t want you to be cross with me. My only desire is to see you happy. Perhaps I became too carried away. Determined to gain the respect of my fellow man.”

“You wanted their attention. You enjoyed that man bleeding in front of you. Oh, James. That’s so sad…how pathetic could you be?” His hands clung to your hips.

“Yes, pathetic-“ You clutched his chin in your hand, hard enough that his eyes widened.

“Beg. Beg God for forgiveness. If you really meant what you said about making me happy.”

He was resisting inwardly, you knew that. But you counted on his love for you to override it. He tilted his head down and started whispering.

“Dear Heavenly Father, I come to you-“ You stepped out of his embrace and you released him.

“I said pray to God, James. That’s not correct.” James stumbled and tried to grab your arm.

“I’m doing what you asked.”

“I am your God.”

The silence echoed after your direction but James appeared to be stunned. His breathing was heavier as he slowly scanned your heels, legs, stomach and now your breasts. “Darling, if you make me scream your name, would that count as praying?” He asked with a growing smirk.

You beckoned him with a finger. “Crawl to me, James. Show me how repentant you are.” He was fast to oblige. His large hands held his weight as he moved and he settled on the back of his calves when he reached you.

James touched his palms together, staring up at you. “Please forgive me, y/n. I beg you. I promise I’ll listen. I promise I will never disobey you. And I promise I will get on my knees everyday if you allow me to touch you.”

Your mouth curved in a satisfied smile. “Was that so hard? But I’m afraid this is just the beginning. I want you to go to the bed.”

He practically jumped to his feet and prowled to the bed. You trailed after him, flicking the cross between your fingers as a thrill ignited in your bones. It was obscene to use Gods name in vain like this. To pretend you were the highest power. But it was too delicious to see such a dark man beg and not give into your temptation. You would just have to go to church more often after tonight.

You took ahold of his suspenders and yanked him close. Chest to chest. “You’ll do anything?” You proposed.

“Of course, kitten. I could never disobey my God.”

You smashed your lips against his, not giving a shit about your lipstick. Your arms encircled his broad shoulders and his hands captured your middle, hips and then they cupped your ass. He moaned as you bit his lower lip and pulled. His tongue swept your mouth and you met it with your own. He lifted you by your thighs, his strength evident by the way he made your curvy body feel weightless.

He fell back on the bed and you straddled him. James ripped away from the kiss, red product smeared on his mouth. He latched onto your skirt, hiking it over your thighs and his fingers brushed against the growing wet spot of your underwear. You swallowed and shook your head. Normally, you were too insecure to entertain this. A part of you wanted to run away and hide. But you pushed back those thoughts and wildly took off your underwear.

As if reading your mind, James assisted in sliding you higher until you were above his face. Tearing off your jacket, James shoved you down, his tongue licking a stripe. You nearly screamed at the foreign contact. He circled your clit before laying his tongue flat. Your hands braced on his chest as you rolled your pelvis against the pace of his mouth. His lips suckled your clit and he gently let his teeth give it a tug.

He moaned, a pretty sound that you needed more of. “Fuck,” he said in-between lapping your pussy. He didn’t swear often so you knew this was a special occasion. You continued humping his face as a rush of heat flushed your face and your entrance tightened. You were close.

He started to shift, “I need you underneath me. I need to feel you cum while I’m fucking you.”

You maneuvered yourself down enough so he could talk as you gripped his jaw. “Good boys take what I give them. If you’re not, I’ll have to walk away-“ you didn’t finish as James jerked you back into place. Getting the point.

He dipped his tongue inside before it resumed working over the sensitive bud in the center and you stilled as you reached your peak. You shook as you chased your high. You moved off of his face and his chin was wet but he didn’t wipe it off. “Darling, you are ravishing. I could spend an eternity between your legs if you allowed me.”

A lightening burst of bravery surged you onto your own knees. Your heels giving you a modest boost as you practically ripped off James trousers and threw them across the room. Pausing, your eyes took in his raised dick in the confines of his boxers. He supported himself on his elbows as you licked your lips.

“If you behave yourself, then maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Don’t cum unless I say you can.”

You pulled down his underwear, feeling the heat rise from him as his swollen, heavy cock hung as it leaked precum. You were intimidated by his size but you refused to let him see fear.

Sticking out your tongue, you licked his tip before going along the side. James grunted as you wrapped your hand around the base, taking it into your mouth. He shuddered as you bobbed your head up and down as you went further, pumping him at the same time.

“That’s-thats not fair, mouse-“ He whispered harshly and you tried not to smirk.

He started thrusted into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat but you breathed through your nose to keep from gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked faster and he clenched his fists.

“Y/n, please. I’m going to cum-this is-“ You shook your head causing James’s head to jerk back.

A creamy liquid shot down in your mouth and you removed yourself. He chanted your name and God as you watched with a quirked eyebrow.

James lifted up, “Y/n. Surely you know that I was never going to win that game. Please, allow me to take you. I promise I will-“

“Another promise, James? I meant what I said. Now, I’m going to have to punish you.” Standing, you grabbed his belt and wrestled his arms down, pinning his wrists together. You bound them tightly and gently smacked his face. “You’re not allowed to touch me. If you break free, I’ll leave you here. Do you understand?”

James moved his head in a short nod.

“Do you understand, James? Is that anyway to answer me?” You taunted.

“Yes, I understand.” He ground through his teeth. You knew the submission was killing him

You balanced on your knees before grabbing his dick. You lined it up with your pussy and sank down. James whimpered, actually whimpered and you groaned from pleasure. And a small stretch of pain. You felt full but the hilt of his pelvis hit your clit.

You rocked your hips, your eyes fighting to stay open from James meeting your pace. His hands, despite being tied, attempted to touch you.

“James. I told you to keep your hands down.” You scolded with a half serious tone. James was looking at you with fuck me eyes as you used him.

You lifted off him, taking your discarded coat and wiping your inner thighs.

“Darling, I’m sorry. No, please. Please allow me to make you finish. My pet, I don’t know what’s gotten ahold of me. I don’t know why I can’t seem to listen-“

“Who said I was done with you?” You questioned and his mouth fell. You had reached for his cane. Holding it across your body, you unsheathed the hidden knife. It was still covered in blood. Half naked, you still had your heels on.

“James. I suggest you start praying again.”

Taglist. @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @alittlesil @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @randodummy @evanptrss @hyperharlz @howtobesasha

[thestartarot]

North Node Aries / South Node Libra

My own observations, take what resonates.

18 y/o over due to sensitive topic nature, thank you.

Soul color: Red

Your destiny point: independence in all relationships and feeling accepted for who one truly is, a firm grasp on who you are, be meaningful, and have confidence to feel comfortable in your own skin.

How to overcome: stop worrying and letting your life get so defined by what people think of you or how someone decides to validate you. Find an actual sport to help with issues of insecurity brought on by competitiveness and learn when to walk away from confrontation.

Childhood: An Aries NN is always interesting in the dynamic of the home. A lot of repressed conflict here. Most likely, a lot of arguing in the home (between siblings, between parents, maybe everyone) and often times the fights were intense and the resolutions were passionate and heartfelt. This placement has an undeniable sense of feeling mistaken from all angles, feeling unusual. Because of this, the placement will go to great lengths to seek validation from family and friends. In addition to the validation needed at home and with friends, the media plays a big role in validating this placement and often what we are taught to be “standard” is actually unobtainable and sometimes impossible. There were probably a vast amount of different social groups and cliques growing up. This placement certainly didn’t want to lose out in popularity so may have been the most popular in school or may have been everyone to everyone, losing themselves in the process.

Also, there are moral issues here, embrace what is different and cool and genuine to you or stay in the crowd? This placement stays with the crowd, there’s more protection and the friends are a way to escape the confines of the home where it’s easy to not feel like enough with everything going on (sports, grades, finances etc.) This placement may have also had to mature early, maybe even having jobs at young ages.

Adulthood: This placement may still be in contact with same friends from high school or college because community are the social checks and balances Libra south node loves. Media is a big influence in this placement. A BIG shift from repressing what makes them feel uncomfortable or insecure in childhood to a lot of self help and self discovery in adulthood. This placement will learn to part ways with what no longer serves them, after a couple of mistakes learned the hard way, usually. Then, the Aries NN will go on to keep digging to discover themselves and where they may have gotten lost in childhood. This placement may put an emphasis on finding the one answer or the one thing that will make all of these uncomfortable feelings go away, but really it’s the Libra’s south node obsessions and perfectionism that is causing this placement so much heartache.

Libra, being an air sign, intelligence & debate are happy places for this placement. Loves to argue for their ideals, beliefs, and community. The placement feels validated in arguments by their own research and intellect and the people who support them. Conflict can grow too comfortable here.

Imposter syndrome could be strong here.

How to overcome: The nodes are axis points of fear, things we need to overcome to see the bigger picture. In tarot, these nodes are represented by The Fool & The Emperor or Empress. In particular to this placement, true healing comes from walking away from a fight, laughing at the ridiculous standards being imposed by media, choosing their own image and story, and having faith. This placement will actually have a lot of growth in the breakup of relationships and self determined individuals will use the trial by fire to keep moving in their interests and truth. This sign is fundamentally unique, a trailblazer, and a little quirky. This placement needs to believe in themself and get in touch with the fundamentals of who they are.

Also, Libra needs an outlet for all of that competition so go be the best at something (strong encouragement for competitive sport) and don’t worry what others think!! You got this!! You are enough and you were born with sound mind.

— Casper

[orbmanson7]

So I don't want to say I'm disappointed about this, but maybe I've just been spoiled by scorpy's amazing (and authentic) VHS skills, because the picture quality is way too high for a CRT, even using RCA-to-RCA, no additional conversion, the pixels are just too well defined to give an authentic VHS feel...

I eventually switched it over to the flatscreen tv using 720p, RCA-to-HDMI, and the picture is again very clear, even with the artificially added loss. However, the texture bleeding and tracking loss effect that's been added is definitely much better in this particular format. It feels more authentic and enhances the experience, and while it doesn't compare to the naturally bad quality expected of the CRT, it's still an improvement.

And then I switched the flatscreen tv to a 1080p display, and again, the loss texturing that was added certainly helps, but it just doesn't feel authentic to an actual VHS copy. There's definitely effort in this, but when playing the video in such a high resolution, it kind of gives the game away that it's all edited in. Maybe that's intentional, though? Don't look TOO closely, or you'll see the wires, you know?

I'll plug this into my laptop next to see if I can pull some additional display options out of it, but I think it's safe to say the best option for viewing The Founder's Cut VHS tape is using around 720p on a computer monitor or flatscreen tv, as it gives the closest to an authentic genloss'd experience you can get!

Even if it doesn't look all that great on the CRT, I am still quite happy with how this tape eventually came out overall. There's obvious effort here to show a degraded, lossed, altered video, and that really adds to the story of Generation Loss, especially the version of that story that the Founder seems to want people to know.

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Zhahara [Strahliana @egglygreg]

Eighteen year old Zhahara is one of Ahleri's companions, and is the daughter of the elected ruler of Strahna. She is usually the more cautious voice of reason in the group. She's a clever bookworm with a vast amount of knowledge about almost any subject. As the daughter of a nobleman she is also very good at political maneuvering and knowing the ins and outs of high class society, which is why she is appointed Ahleri's etiquette guide and manager when Ahleri arrives at the castle. Her personality is mostly serious, but she has a surprisingly dry sense of humor. Very fond of plants, but generally more in a knowledge sense than practical, though she does help tend the palace gardens and has her own assortment of potted plants. Unfortunately she has little experience with the greater outdoors and other hands-on practical work, and is not fond of animals (which Nimble recognises and punishes her for- the little possum loves to destroy her things and stir her up. She does warm to Ourem quite quickly though, due to his gentle and noble nature). Hard to get close to initially, once Zhahara is attached to someone she is then fiercely loyal. Shrewd and perceptive, she does tend to hold grudges against those who have wronged her. She has few friends, usually preferring her own company, though is very close with her cousin Conell. She actually starts out heavily disliking Ahleri, but after some time she comes to love her dearly, and they develop a strong friendship. Similarily she also comes to enjoy the outdoors despite her initial dislike, and even gets attached to Nimble. Zhahara can be quite picky and particular about many things. She's surprisingly messy but has a weird system and knows where everything is. She often gets very caught up in a train of thought and hates if someone interrupts her or changes the subject before she has finished speaking. Will talk regardless of whether others are interested or even listening, and gets very annoyed when others know more about something than she does (although it's rare that someone does, she's a wellspring of knowledge). She is generally very good at negotiating and at conflict resolution, and can give very good advice. Doesn't always follow it herself. Despite her short stature, she is also a fairly good fighter, having been trained as part of her studies growing up.

Ziph [Welsh WIP @bookdragon1811]

complicated relationship with grief babeyyyy lets go!! also with sand. he's blind and is teaming up with an old lady to figure out why his dead grandfather was so obsessed with the sand that blinded him

[graysparrowao3]

WIP Whatever: Rolan, Cal, & Lia Special

Thank you for the tag @forget-me-maybe! I know it's not two particular Northern Bastards (but if that's what you were hoping for you may find such a snippet here). I hope it's not bothersome or disappointing if I indulge in posting again, I know I have more than usual lately, to be honest I'm just a bit proud of this bit.

Some more tags should you wish to share or share again <3 @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @falcatamandarina @reverieblondie @commander-krios @turquoiseoverthesea

Behold! From the next chapter of The Elturian Prodigy fic...

Rolan, Cal, and Lia are currently in Avernus trying to survive. Rolan may have finally started to figure out a way to get them back so that the events of Baldur's Gate 3 can begin....

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR DESCENT INTO AVERNUS BELOW THE CUT

Rolan cleared his throat. “It has to be the Companion.”

“Want someone to ask you to elaborate, don’t you?” Lia’s eyes were sullen.

“The Companion was the first thing we noticed. When it flickered, changed. That happened before the devils decided to make an appearance. If I can figure out the nature of the change to the Companion, we find our way home.”

“I’ll pack my bags,” Lia’s tongue and voice was dry. “Glad you took your time coming up with that stellar conclusion.”

“Bet it tasted like cheese,” Cal mumbled vacantly under his breath.

“I suppose you’ve already detailed the particulars, have you?” Rolan glared. The exhausted woman across the room huffed air though her nose.

“Fine.” She did not sound pleased about it, but she did continue. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ve been trying to establish a way home, but I’d been thinking too small, too direct. Perhaps it’s less about reversing the way we arrived here, and more about the bigger picture.” He paused for both theatrics and to gather his next thoughts. “It was High Overseer Kreeg who produced the miracle itself. A blinding light to rid the city of evil, or some such drivel.”

“It was evil, Rolan,” Lia rolled her eyes. “We're living in it. Kreeg helped the Riders, saved the whole city.”

Lines creased Rolan’s brow. “I never can remember the deity Kreeg revered. Divine matters. Not my forte.”

“Torm,” came a soft muttering from the youngest tiefling who let his head rest back against the wall.

“Ah. Yes.”

Cal forced whatever amusement he could to his voice, which wasn't much. "Pretty sure if we weren’t already in Hell you’d be smited for blasphemy.”

“Right,” Rolan cleared his throat. “Torm. And Torm is of course…”

“Patron of Paladins.”

“Obviously. A beacon of righteousness and duty. A bleeding heart. Surprised you weren’t fully converted, Lia.”

“Might’ve thought about it,” she shot back. “Not that it’s any of your business. Could've used a few answered prayers lately.”

Rolan was too engrossed in thought to register her reply, his face furrowing further. “Does that sound like the sort of God to banish us to Hell?”

Cal’s eyes slowly animated with curiosity and he sat forward. “What are you thinking, Rolan?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. “But you recall making the oath of the Creed Resolute…”

“Which you were willing to break the second the city faced danger,” Lia made her disdain apparent.

“Which I still would, if it were possible,” Rolan’s voice lowered to a pensive mumble. “To serve the realm of Elturgard… the High Observer… defend the city…”

“Serve all people and the greater good,” Lia added. “Uphold Elturgard’s laws and the Creed Resolute.”

Cal finished the code contained within the Creed. “Allow no difference of faith to come between us, and not attribute the Companion to any one God.”

Rolan nodded in affirmation of their combined words. “Now, Lia’s fanciful ambitions aside, why would anyone other than the Riders need to make such an oath?”

“Hells, Rolan,” she frowned, “you wouldn’t shut up about it at the time. We get it – you are so philosophically advanced and the rest of us mindless idiots to social convention.”

“No, Lia,” Cal intervened, “I think he’s actually onto something this time. You think it’s connected, Rolan?”

“It’s no more impossible than anything else. The timing alone is suspect. I’d bet money – if we had any left – that if Torm put the Companion in place, or Kreeg through Torm, or whatever else – I don’t know how all that nonsense works - it’s not Torm’s will that undid it.”

Cal couldn’t help but put words to the question that sat waiting. “So… who did?”

Rolan took a deep breath. “Someone who benefits from every living soul in Elturel swearing to the Creed Resolute.”

The air and vibrations in the infernal basement froze.

“Rolan…” Lia’s voice shook with caution, “please tell me you know who that is.”

“It’s a guess,” he tempered expectations, but the vivid blazing behind his eyes betrayed his excitement. “We are, as I believe, in Avernus. Currently under siege in the Blood War. Commanded in the First Circle of Hell by-”

“Zariel,” the word left Lia’s mouth breathlessly.

Rolan offered an acknowledging nod of his head. "Or, in as it means literally... Companion of Light."

“Holy shit, Rolan,” Cal was leaning so far forward he was leaning on his palms, his eyes flaming bright, “you’re a genius.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Lia mumbled instinctively, but a thick layer of exhaustion had lifted from her face and she was staring with expectation. “But this is insane. Zariel is an Archdevil. Maybe if he figures out what we can do about it.”

“Well whatever Kreeg is up to clearly hasn’t helped. And the Riders are next to useless.”

“Rolan!”

“My best speculations,” Rolan hummed. “If Torm was the one that conjured the Companion, perhaps he’s not best pleased about its demise and would rather like it back. If Zariel was involved from the start, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do. Not without more information. Either way, there’s only one place in the city that might offer some insight into the matter.”

Two voices in union gave the final obvious answer.

“The High Hall.”

Rolan tipped his head and his shoulders pulled proudly back. “Perhaps there’s a reason to risk the bridges after all.”

[carnal-lnstinct]

AHH I'm so happy you're doing a halloween event 💖 Can I request a sfw Vegeta AU in which he is the king of the underworld (alternatively could be demon king of the underworld) and he pines after a human? I picture him more on the yandere side, but you can adapt it however you want! Thank you, looking forward to all your fics 💕

VEGETA X READER

✦✦Content: au, king of the underworld vegeta, light yandere / possessive behavior, one-sided pining. ✦✦Warning: manipulation / gaslighting

Mortal desires are a full spectrum of color he could see with his eyes closed. All intricately woven together to form an illusion of necessity, when it is just a sin dressed in a fragile moral shell. Your case was no different, but it garnered his attention effortlessly. The Divine Sovereign of the Underworld witnessed so little of the intent in your actions and found means to personally place himself in your path. It boiled down to one thing: He had something you wanted, and it presented him with the opportunity he’d been waiting for. His own sinful vanity couldn’t stand by and let himself go disregarded by you when he’s given you more than enough of his…curiosity? Admiration? 

Regardless, an audience with you was required now. 

The King’s large arm stretches out from his cape revealing the trained muscles and old scars. He turns his hand upright, presenting the small dragon ball. The very reason you managed to make your way into the Underworld. He showed it off as if it could be freely taken from his grasp, the corner of his lips turning upward seeing you draw your focus to the magical orb. “Is this all you come here for?” He asks you with a taunting tilt of his head. “I suspect you think I’m going to just hand it over if you begged hard enough. That I will let you continue to traipse over my life’s work and turn a blind eye while you defy the natural order of my authority.” 

As his fingers close around the dragon ball he rises from his grand throne and approaches you and you are temporarily startled by his height for one who sat so high. Though his size compared to yours didn’t outweigh his intimidating aura. “You really think your Eternal Dragon can save your friends’ souls from me? No dead may leave my realm without my say...”

“A-A trade, then! For my friends, I-I’ll give you my dragon balls!” You blurted out in a desperate breath from your chest, shaken by your own weak nerves and impulsive response. King Vegeta’s smirk twitches at that, his brow beneath his curved horns lowering further over his dark eyes.

“What nerve you have. Implying I, a Divine King, have something more to wish for?” His eyes roll in aversion to the idea as he moves around you, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes where yours cannot see. He hovers in your peripheral before he disappears from one side and circles around to your other. “What would I do with three useless dragon balls?”

“—Then take me! Your Highness…take me!” You sink further on your knees and bow your head low to the ground, hands outstretched towards his empty throne. “Please!”

King Vegeta stops circling you, standing outside of your line of sight. Those magic words were uttered so perfectly and so effortlessly, that he had to take a moment to embrace the way it rang in his ears. “Just one mortal soul?” He further teased in mock indifference. “Like there aren't countless piles of those lying around here.”

“One mortal soul…a-and the remaining dragon balls.” You spoke, resolutely. Determined to right the wrongs done to those you loved. “So… So no one else can use them to challenge your power. I’ll gather them all and bring them to you in exchange for my friends.”

Your words mellow in the brief silence, a tinge of hope daring to creep into your spirits. He turns slightly to look down over his shoulder at you, cloak loosely twisted around his leg. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You respond sincerely, but softly. You hear his footsteps behind you descend across the room and a chair slides across the floor.

“Eat with me.” He orders you, the sudden change of topic further unsettling your disposition and giving him a surprised look in response. He gestures a hand to the long dining table, specifically to the chair beside the head of the table.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He affirms amicably by sitting in the larger chair at the head of the table. “Unless you have something better to do right this second?” Not like your friends were getting any more dead. And time in the Underworld moved differently than the other realms, a mortal who was not of this world should be starving even in the brief time you have been here.

This shift made you anxious, but you can sense there wasn’t much choice in it. The thought of food crossing your mind did make you conscious of your stomach’s need. You swallow and stand up, “No…I’ll do it. Thank you for your kindness..” 

You settle in the designated chair with a covered plate in front of you. Glancing his way every so often until an unknown hand reaches over your side and removes the lid, warm steam flowing up toward your face. The food had a nice smell, but such earthy colors. You’ve never seen anything like this before. “...It’s poisoned.” You thought out loud, pressing your back up against your seat to put as much distance as you could between yourself and the plate.

“Don’t be stupid. What do I gain from killing you now? I’m not ruining a meal with your corpse.” King Vegeta pointed out, a hint of annoyance from your insult to his hospitality. Not any mortal could be tolerated for something like that.

Not to hurt your chances with his favor, you nod and quickly apologize. You ate without really tasting the food, just doing so to remain polite and because it was asked of you. But the hints of richness and spices made it easier. It was definitely better than it looked. The King ate with you, slowing down in between his bites to watch you feed yourself with a self-satisfied grin. Occupied with his own imagination and how much closer it was to becoming reality.

The second serving is placed in front of you and the most colorful presentation of food before you: a pomegranate. Joined with a small bowl of sorbet. It was a more appetizing surprise and without thought you lifted your spoon to sample your sorbet first. He completely stopped eating and stared you down in silent anticipation, going unnoticed by you with your focus on the sweets. There are different hints of flavors that hit all the points on your tongue, making you finish off the small bowl without hesitation. 

And then, finally, your spoon digs into one of the halves of the pomegranate, the juice pooling into the utensil with a few loose seeds. You scoop out more and carefully sip the juice first, followed by feeding the seeds to yourself in bits. The dark eyes watching you flash with a color, King Vegeta’s grin widening with his sinister snicker. It catches your attention, your gaze meeting his when you turn to him, then self-consciously turning away as you hold your other palm to your bottom lip. Careful to not spill any juice or seeds. He watches a little longer and says nothing, then lifts his goblet to his lips.

When you go to dig for another serving of pomegranate seeds, he stops your hand with a gentle grasp and guides yours away to set the spoon down. “Our business is done.” He states simply. He then rises from his seat with his goblet in hand and walks back towards his throne. “The souls of your friends await you at the gates to the human world.”

Your heart skips and you leap up from your seat, following him with wide eyes. “Wait- that’s…” You catch your breath in the rush of emotions that flowed through your chest. “A-And the dragon balls?”

King Vegeta turns back to you. “It was not about the dragon balls.” He admits with great pleasure, swirling his drink in his hold. His brow arches. ”You understand?”

Your confusion leaves you staring his way, attempting to understand. Running all your words and his together, and then you’re breathless again when the realization hits you.

 It was never about the dragon balls.

Is not the darkness sweet ?

[wsancho]

FF6Celebration Recap

Thank you all for reading, for the feedback, for the encouragement, and for the ideas exchange❣️🙏🏼

After wrestling too much with my first couple of fanfics, I got into this challenge hoping to get the juices flowing with less struggle. This greatly helped with that, also helped me get into some characters and themes for which I had no insights or very little enthusiasm whatsoever, and I got to develop a routine.

However, I don't see myself taking on similar challenges any time soon. This served its purpose, but because of its nature, I barely got to sit with ideas or review/edit what I wrote, which I do not fucking like 😤 (I will not edit these, though)

I'm very much into failing fast and often, so here are 30+ consecutive failures that I'm glad I wrote and, as reported, some of you actually enjoyed reading 😌❤️

Feel free to tear all this shit apart! 🤘🏼😛

1st day of Ruin: Mercy (Banon)

Chocobo: Artist's Rendition (Relm, Strago)

Tattoo: Resolute Radiance (Sabin, Edgar)

Phoenix (Fenix): Leave Me Here (Setzer, Edgar, Sabin)

Train: Daydreaming (Sabin, Shadow, Cyan)

Treasure: Legitimate Value (Sabin, Edgar)

Crown: Time Out Of Mind (Kefka)

Airship: Self-Limiting (Daryl, Setzer)

Magic: Racing Thoughts (Edgar)

Esper(s): Meltdown (Terra)

Years later: Sordid (Cyan)

Fire: Generals' Table (Kefka, Leo, Celes)

Ice: Collective Warmth (Mog)

Lightning: Seduced (Edgar, Locke, Setzer, Relm, Celes, Terra)

Opera: Heroing For Each Other (Setzer, Celes)

*Free space*: Piece of Cake (Sabin, Edgar)

Poison: Not Lecturing (Sabin, Edgar)

Memento: Hunter's Moon (Maduin)

Hope: I Hope And So It Is (Locke, Rachel)

Remembrance: The King's Will (High Priestess, Chancellor, Sabin)

Freedom: The Big Picture (Edgar, Setzer)

Dreams: Poky (Mog, Ramuh)

Role Swap: Arrested Happiness (Setzer, Daryl, Sabin) Pledge (Cyan, Celes)

Floating Continent: Gifted Free Will (Warring Triad)

Ultima: Wretched (Edgar, Terra, Locke, Sabin)

Favorite Item: Gratified (Edgar, Terra, Locke, Sabin)

Magicite: Life's Best (Cid, Celes)

Chainsaw: Distinguished Female (Edgar, Locke, Sabin Celes)

Shiny Shiny: Collector's Item (Gau)

Monster(s): Young Promise (Cid, Gestahl, Kefka)

Clothing Swap: Camaraderie (Edgar, Sabin, Locke, Setzer)

[shady-swan-jones]

Remember Me Like This

Galadriel/Halbrand. Mature. In Progress [1/3] Chapter 1: As I Am Today

“I feel at peace here.” Halbrand says simply. But heaviness lies on what he omits. His peace cannot last. - Eregion, after Halbrand is healed. The fate of the rings is decided between stolen kisses and promises.

In the meadow of Eregion, peace breeds flowers and roots bask in the last rays of sunlight—everything Galadriel fights to preserve. The singing leaves and dancing winds echo the harmony of nature, tranquility woven into the very fabric of the land, even in the face of decay. It’s a place where ancient trees whisper tales of her people, and in their melodies, Galadriel finds belonging.

Footsteps sound behind her, the soft crush of fallen leaves betraying his approach. 

“Halbrand,” she calls without looking. 

He chuckles and she pictures teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

“You should be resting,” she admonishes.  Turning around, she meets his eyes. They pierce hers like a Valinorian dagger. 

Their journey to Eregion is a blur in her memory. Riding tirelessly day and night, a hollow worry gnawing at her, a fear he may not endure the relentless pace. Urging the horse to unforgiving speed, they raced towards the sunrise, as if her determination could rupture the fabric of time itself. She would ensure his safe arrival, there was no other option. They pursued the dawn, a desperate attempt to outpace the miles and elude the encroaching darkness. Even if her lungs were burning, she would shield him from its looming threat. She fought to get him here, and now he’s standing before her. 

All is in her mind though, he was crossing between unconsciousness and numbness. It’s as if he awoke to another life. 

His gaze lacks the concealed inquiry, it lingers on her without pretense.  

“You are bathed in light,” he murmurs, fixated upon her golden locks radiating like a halo in ethereal glow.

He must be afflicted by the fever, she reasons. Yet as she approaches, he emanates serenity. He stands tall, centered, strong, nothing betraying a man mortally wounded a fortnight ago.

Her touch upon his forehead detects no heat beyond the warmth she had seen in the bodies of men.

He halts it with two fingers on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m alright. Your people’s medicine healed me. What’s the secret?”

"Elven herbs are potent in essence. It heals not only the body but the spirit."

“I feel it.” She believes him. A newfound glow graces his face. 

“I am relieved. However, the High King should not witness you wandering. Return within," she implores, taking his elbow. Yet he stands unyielding. 

"I have fostered the inclination to follow in your footsteps, wherever they may lead," he says softly, the faint sketch of a smile on his lips. 

From the raft to Numenor, to the Southlands and now here, her constant companion. She’d grown accustomed to his presence, vexing at first, then steadfast and resolute, like a shadow. 

She crosses her arms, a half-hearted attempt at cross-examination.

“You didn’t follow me here. I all but carried you unconscious on the saddle.” She injects some light to the conversation, but his eyes fail to spark of mirth. 

It’s not her assertion he responds to. 

“I was lucky to cross your path.” He speaks plainly, but there’s something lingering in his gaze, moving from the dip of her eyes, to where her arms are clasped together. She fidgets under its weight. 

“It was not luck that brought us together.”

“-then I’ll have to thank powers I cannot name, for pulling a mouthy elf out of the water and joining your quest.” He smiles, coaxing the fragment of mirth out of her. 

“Even if I shattered your precious peace?”

He gazes at the greenery, then at her. 

“I feel at peace here.” He says simply. But heaviness lies on what he omits. Hia peace cannot last.  

“Treasure it for you will depart soon. Your place is in the Southlands, by your people.” It’s an assertion to herself too. She feels the weight her sentence carries. Reminding him of his duty is a familiar refrain, only now the gravity settles. Now there are people to guide; what they need is a king.

The corners of his mouth curve into a smile -the sweetest she’s seen from him until now. His lip is still chapped, though the scar tissue has subsided. The dipping sun paints his hair with strikes of auburn, as when he’s facing the fire in the blacksmith’s forge. He finds a lock that sits on her shoulder, plays with it reverently, as if by that golden strand he is deciding his fate. 

“My place is with you.” 

Her lips fall open, a tangled breath getting out. Gleaming hazel eyes giving a simple truth. Whatever thought she entertained evaporates. He waits, his fingers stilling around her hair. She’s glassy waters, waiting for a fish to cut the stillness. He leans down and breathes a kiss on her lips. It’s soft, but lingering. “My peace is with you,” he whispers when he’s close. 

Then lifts her jaw and closes the distance, plunging them both into a bone-melting kiss. 

His lips move around hers with such ferocity she has to fist her hands on his tunic for support. In the warmth of his embrace, she feels alive, the taste of him like beaten metal succumbing to heat. His strong arms circle her, settling on her waist, igniting everything in their path. No one understands the fire inside her, but he kindles it, coaxes it, binding it to his. 

“Galadriel,” he utters her name like a prayer to a forgotten god. "Before you, I was lost at sea. Beyond repentance, a sinner hiding from his past. You brought me to the light, to your light. My power, my crown, my future—I want to share them with you."

She kisses him, swallowing his promises. He accepts and follows, yet when they come up for air, his eyes are begging for an answer. 

She watches as the light slowly leaves his face. 

“I gave my heart thousands of years before you opened your eyes. Now it lies buried under the carcasses of elfs slaughtered by orcs of Sauron. To reclaim it, I must bring about his end."

She has buried enough kin to walk away towards the sunset. She can’t start anew without finishing her quest, ending Sauron’s bloody rule once and for all. Halband can’t offer her absolution, nor flowery words to exempt her from her fate. 

If there is a future as he envisions, one where she’s content and reigning, she doesn't yet deserve it. 

Halbrand holds her tighter, fingers splaying on her back.

"It’s but your grief speaking. It has steered you through ages, but do not let it shape your destiny. You once urged me to release the past; do likewise.” He cradles her head on his palms. “I promise, I will ease your sorrow.”

Her eyes glisten. Temptation tugs at her from deep inside. It would be easy to succumb. Unlace the armor that has been part of her skin, lay down her weapons, rest. 

Her fingers thread on the back of his neck, bringing him down to almost taste her lips. 

“You saved me, Halbrand. You were my raft in the storm. But I long for steady land under my feet and it will take me lifetimes to be worthy of it.” 

She has to keep fighting. His span of life is too narrow to fit her purpose. 

The hand runs circles on the soft flesh under her ear, the calloused pads awakening her skin. 

“Then let me give you eons in a night.” He trails his fingers over her neck, following the chords to her jaw with his lips. “Let me leave a print in the glass of your immortality.”

She touches his chest, feeling the unsteady beat of his heart. The melody, she etches it into memory. She’s already into the future, missing him.

“I won’t forget you,” she vows. 

Another kiss, this time on her brow. 

“But I want you to remember me like this. If I'm a stranger in your future, remember I was good once.”

She seals her promise with her lips. If she can't have an eternity, she will revel in today. A day, a moment, a touch. 

Eyes closed, she captures his mouth again, stifling the silent groan as her tongue brushes his. The hands on her hips shift and she’s lifted off the ground as Halbrand carries her, walking blindly, never cutting the kiss. 

Eventually, he lays her down, and their lips reluctantly part. His eyes, a reflection of countless tales, meet hers, and for a heartbeat, time stands still.

"Remember me," he whispers, voice a soft plea.

She pulls him on top of her and layers of fabric surrender to the urgency -the way layers of her soul are shed one by one. They meet and mold around each other and Habrand brushes the hair out of her eyes softly. The aim was to seal their connection, shutting it forever. But as they dance in the melody of their bond, something happens. The threads that hold them, instead of being severed, grow stronger, entwined with each shared breath and heartbeat. Between kisses, their fates merge. 

End of Part 1

[bigfootbeat]

Bigfoot and the Science of Tracking

The mythical Bigfoot is said to live in North American forests, especially in the Pacific Northwest. Bigfoot is a big, hairy, ape-like creature that has captivated the attention of many people and spurred a field of study devoted to tracing and establishing its existence. Traditional tracking techniques, contemporary technology, and a healthy dose of skepticism and discussion among scientists are all used in the science of Bigfoot tracking. Conventional tracking techniques are essential to the Bigfoot hunt. Physical evidence, such as footprints, hair samples, and scat, is frequently sought after by enthusiasts and scholars. The most often claimed piece of evidence is a cast of enormous, human-like footprints that were discovered in isolated locations. To determine the legitimacy of these impressions, factors such as stride length, depth, and skin ridges are examined. Unfortunately, there has been continuous dispute due to the absence of reliable and regular tracks. The field is frequently complicated by hoaxes and incorrect identifications of animal tracks, making it challenging to discern between real and fake data.

When it comes to Bigfoot studies, audio cues are just as important as physical proof. Researchers claim to have heard loud vocalizations that they identify as Bigfoot, such as screams, howls, and hammering sounds on wood. Using top-notch audio equipment, these noises are captured, and any patterns that diverge from those of recognized fauna are examined. Although audio analysis can be quite interesting, the wide range of noises made by different animals and surrounding elements can sometimes lead to misunderstandings. Bigfoot tracking research now has new instruments thanks to modern technology. Drones, infrared imaging, and trail cameras are frequently utilized to keep an eye on isolated locations where sightings have been reported. Specifically, trail cameras are positioned in key spots to take pictures or recordings of wildlife, including possible Bigfoot encounters. High-resolution camera drones are capable of covering enormous areas and capturing aerial pictures of dense woods. Large animals may be present in the shadows when heat signatures are detected, which is made possible by infrared imaging. Even with these advances, it is still difficult to find conclusive photographic or video evidence of Bigfoot, which frequently leads to grainy or inconsistent recordings. Another potential option in the hunt for Bigfoot is DNA analysis. Samples of hair and scat taken from alleged Bigfoot sightings are sent to labs for genetic analysis. To find any abnormalities, scientists compare the DNA from these samples to that of known animals. The scientific community is dubious of studies that claim to have discovered unidentified primate DNA, frequently attributing findings to contamination or testing errors. Replication of findings and thorough, peer-reviewed study are required to support any claims of new species discovery. Because there is so little hard proof and so many hoaxes, the scientific community is skeptical of Bigfoot. Numerous experts contend that the existence of a Bigfoot-sized monster would necessitate a viable breeding population; nevertheless, no physical remains, skeletal remains, or conclusive evidence have been discovered. Furthermore, the great majority of the evidence is derived from eyewitness accounts and anecdotal tales, both of which are known to be untrustworthy. Cognitive biases can cause individuals to mistake natural events for sightings of Bigfoot, such as pareidolia, which is the tendency to discern patterns or recognizable shapes in seemingly random inputs.

Despite these difficulties, there is still a devoted following for the Bigfoot hunt. Motivated by the prospect of making a remarkable discovery, enthusiasts, amateur researchers, and cryptozoologists never give up. Bigfoot's appeal stems from the excitement and mystery of venturing into the uncharted territory, in addition to the prospect of discovering a new species. Many people place equal value on the adventure and the community that surrounds the search as they do on the eventual outcome of establishing Bigfoot's existence. To sum up, the science of Bigfoot tracking integrates cutting-edge technology, conventional tracking techniques, and a methodical approach to evidence interpretation. The pursuit of conclusive evidence persists in captivating the interest of a fervent community of scholars and enthusiasts, despite obstacles and skepticism. The search for Bigfoot underscores humanity's ongoing interest with the natural world's secrets, regardless of whether the creature is ever shown to exist.

[olivia-vert]

Womanhood in the twenty-first century in a predominantly Western culture has been a confusing experience to me so far. Having grown up in Eastern Europe, I have soaked in the habit of contradictions to my bones.

I know not to speak when not spoken to, but my mother taught me to fight the patriarchy. People around me said that girls don't swear and girls don't smoke and girls don't drink or do drugs, so I did all those things just to prove them wrong. They have said that I should not live with a man I'm not going to marry, so I also did that for a while. My teachers told me that girls shouldn't kiss girls, naturally I did that as well. I was taught I am fragile and emotional, but in my core I always knew I must be strong and better than everyone else to prove them all wrong.

People of my generation on the Internet send the message that I should be skinny or not skinny and healthy and have a journey that I share online with pretty pictures and high-resolution videos. I should be active and go to the gym and also read all these books on mental health and definitely see a therapist, but not that one, and also do yoga and mindfullness meditation and travel to new places and talk to friends and also be a career girlboss. I should be proud of my hairy legs and try microdosing LSD, I must be a vegan because otherwise I want the Earth to burst in epic flames, I must be a saviour to everyone, an empath and a strong voice. I must be all these things, but above all, I must be myself.

Don't get me wrong - I am definitely so happy about the fact that we are getting healthier and are taking better care of ourselves and our planet. I hope that one day we get to wake up to the news of Earth's temperatures not being record high that year and we come up with an energy-efficient way to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and also use ecologically friendly packaging for everything. Nonetheless, finding my voice and understanding what I truly want has been incredibly hard for me in all the background noise.

Sometimes, I just think about how nice it would be if I could just tune it all out. Remove myself quietly from the party - no one will even notice, I'm a nobody, no one invited me here - and just breathe. How nice it would have been not to have a childhood spent on social media, constantly informed of Once in a Lifetime Cataclysms. How great it must be to hear your heart speak to you and then do the things it wants you to.

My heart's been battered and broken and it feels like trucks drove through it quite violently. Its voice is weak and breathy, but persistent. It tells me to create art, however I can, whatever it takes. I have no idea how Do I Do Art realistically without starving or being a burden to everyone around me. I'm not even that good. How do I be all those things I must be + be an artist + earn a living + have a social life and eat homecooked meals?

It's April, and I have shedded my old skin. One day, I'll be wise to know what to do after.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

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Five-mile asteroid impact crater below Atlantic captured in ‘exquisite’ detail by seismic data

New images of an asteroid impact crater buried deep below the floor of the Atlantic Ocean have been published by researchers at Heriot-Watt University.

The images confirm the 9km Nadir Crater, located 300m under the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, was caused by an asteroid smashing into Earth at the end of the Cretaceous period around 66 million years ago. 

That’s the same age as the dinosaur-killing 200 km wide, Chicxulub impact crater in Mexico. 

The images have helped the researchers determine what happened in the minutes following impact: the formation of an initial bowl-shaped crater, rocks turned to a fluid-like state and flowing upwards to the crater floor, the creation of a damage zone covering thousands of square kilometres beyond the crater, and an 800-metre-plus high tsunami that would have travelled across the Atlantic ocean. 

The findings are reported in Nature Communications Earth & Environment. 

66 million-year-old underwater imprint 

Dr Uisdean Nicholson of Heriot-Watt University discovered the Nadir Crater in 2022 when studying seismic reflection data of the Atlantic Ocean’s seabed, off the coast of Guinea in west Africa. 

The data revealed a depression over 8.5km wide, which Dr Nicholson suspected could be an asteroid impact crater. 

He worked with planetary scientists and geologists in the UK and the USA to classify the crater: the data suggested it was from an asteroid hundreds of metres wide hitting the planet around 66 million years ago, but they couldn’t state that definitively. 

Now they can. 

From a grainy ultrasound to a 3D image 

High-resolution, 3D seismic data was captured by TGS, a global geophysical company and shared with Dr Nicholson, a geologist. The data proves that an asteroid caused the Nadir Crater. 

Dr Nicholson said: “There are around 20 confirmed marine craters worldwide, and none of them has been captured in anything close to this level of detail. It’s exquisite. 

“Craters on the surface are usually heavily eroded and we can only see what is exposed, whereas craters on other planetary bodies usually only show the surface expression. 

“These data allow us to image this fully in three dimensions and peel back the layers of sedimentary rock to look at the crater at all levels.

“One way to understand it is to think about a pregnancy ultrasound. A few generations ago, the ultrasound would show a grainy blob. Now you can see the baby’s features in 3D, in incredible detail - including all the internal organs. 

“We’ve gone from 2D, fuzzy imaging to amazing high-resolution imaging of the Nadir Crater.” 

Data reveals minute-by-minute chaos after collision 

Dr Nicholson said: “The new images paint a picture of the catastrophic event. 

“We originally thought the asteroid would have been around 400m wide. We now think it was 450-500m wide, because of the larger crater size as shown by the 3D data. 

“We can tell it came from about 20-40 degrees to the northeast, because of spiralling thrust-generated ridges surrounding the crater's central peak - those are only formed following a low-angle oblique impact. 

“And we think it would have hit Earth at about 20 km per second, or 72,000 km per hour, although we still need to confirm this with a new set of impact models.” 

Using the data, the scientists created a timeline of what happened in the seconds and minutes after impact. 

Dr Nicholson said: “After the impact and the central uplift forming, the soft sediments surrounding the crater flowed inwards towards the evacuated crater floor, creating a visible ‘brim’. 

“The earthquake shaking caused by the impact appears to have liquefied the sediments below the seabed across the entire plateau, causing faults to form below the seabed. 

“The impact was also associated with large landslides as the plateau margin collapsed below the ocean. 

“As well as this, we see evidence for a train of tsunami waves going away from, then back towards the crater, with large resurge scars preserving evidence of this catastrophic event.” 

A natural laboratory for asteroid impact research 

Dr Nicholson points out that humans have never witnessed an asteroid of this size crashing into Earth. 

“The closest humans have come to seeing something like this is the 1908 Tunguska event, when a 50-metre asteroid entered Earth’s atmosphere and exploded in the skies above Siberia.” 

“The new 3D seismic data across the whole Nadir Crater is an unprecedented opportunity to test impact crater hypotheses, develop new models of crater formation in the marine environment and understand the consequences of such an event. 

“We’ve applied to IODP3, which is a new international drilling program, to drill into the seabed and recover cores from the crater. These will give us more information about the shock pressures experienced during impact, and the precise age and sequence of events that occurred after this event.”

Unlike the moon, Earth’s craters erode 

Collaborator Dr Sean Gulick of the University of Texas at Austin, USA, a geophysicist and expert on impact processes, noted: “3D seismic images of a fully-preserved impact crater are a fantastic research opportunity that can allow us to consider how impact processes and craters scale with the size of the impactor both for understand the evolution of the Earth, and other worlds.”

Collaborator Dr Veronica Bray of the University of Arizona, an expert in impact cratering across the solar system, commented: “We see pristine impact craters on airless bodies like the Moon, but don’t have subsurface structural information. 

“On the Earth, that is reversed:  we have structural data from seismics, field mapping and drill cores, but the craters are usually very eroded at the surface.  

“The new 3D seismic imaging of Nadir gives us both.  It’s a startlingly good look at an impact crater!”  

Could an asteroid this size hit Earth soon?

The rubble pile asteroid Bennu is around 400m in diameter. It is considered the most hazardous object in near-Earth orbit. According to NASA scientists, its total impact probability through the year 2300 is about 1 in 1,750 (or 0.057%). The researchers were also able to identify 24 September 2182 as the most significant single date in terms of a potential impact, with an impact probability of 1 in 2,700 (or about 0.037%)

IMAGE: Dr Uisdean Nicholson presenting his findings to scientists on board a drilling ship. Credit Heriot-Watt University