#I've been to the mountaintop

[goodmorningbaltimore]

I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. -Martin Luther King

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[fleshwerks]

Righto, I've had my brekkie, it was mediocre. Let's continue. To followers: I do my best to tag my shit now, so keep your Xkit or other tools updated, as I return to form with my long-winded, acidic essays on good old Dragon Age. It's like we're back in 2017 again! Now I want to offer commentary on an IGN article from September 25, 2024. And I briefly surmise on how evidently, Epler and friends either didn't play, or didn't understand their own home company's game, DA: Inquisition.

By giving up the Inquisition, the Inquisitor also surrenders all their power, gained lands and bases, influence, and treasure. All the Inquisitor has after disbanding or handing over the Inquisition is their personal reputation. The manpower, estates and so on is gone, not in small part because the Inquisitor's enemies don't vanish with the Inquisition, they are not just a splinter in Solas' eye, but there are a lot of powerful factions in Thedas who would very much like to see their investment in Inquisition to pay off. Especially since not nearly all of them threw in their lot with the Inquisition not to stop the world-ending threat, but for power and money. By deleting the Inquisition, the Inquisitor has absolutely robbed these powerful factions of their mail-clad, holy fist, as well as a lot of money. Not to mention everybody else you offended.

Also is gone the thing that made you special in the first place: the Anchor. You're nobody now. You're just a regular person with a great story, and nothing more. By the stinger at the end of Trespasser, you are Rook: you have a very small contingent of ordinary people, and you're back to having to handle everything by yourself again because your ace in the hole and all your resources and manpower are gone, gone, gone.

This quote also doesn't acknowledge the fact that until the very end, the Inquisitor faced distrust from every angle, and the only ones trusting you completely were the pilgrims and refugees, the contingent of people with the least amount of power to actually make meaningful change. Hell, even when you reached Skyhold, there was only one conversation about taking the Inquisition in a more cohesive direction back in Haven. Leliana and Cassandra and Cullen and Josephine virtually sprung your your new title on you by surprise. They ambushed you on a staircase, in front of a crowd, and shoved a sword in your hand. You had no way to say 'oh fuck no' without the desperate crowd below tearing you from limb to limb... in the isolated mountains. On an isolated mountaintop keep's grounds. There was never a choice there. From then on, you had to beg, connive or kill to get people to support you, and Trespasser directly dealt with the fact that people still wanted you gone or harnessed to the church. Your Inquisition wasn't united by the faith of all that contributed to it, it was united by lying, begging and killing. All that really united you was money and fear. The Inquisitor had to earn respect and fear. they had to beg and kill. Nobody in the Inquisition handed you stuff, you had to work for it.

Whose Inquisitor, Ms. Busche? Yours? Because if mine was headcanonically alive, he would not feel even a shred of remorse over being played like a fiddle by a literal elven god, thousands of years old, whereas all he ever was was a 30-year-old drunk soldier brought up in the societal isolation of a Dalish clan, and being functionally illiterate to boot. My Inquisitor is very clear: Solas' choices are his own, his deeds are his own, his manipulation is his own. The Inquisitor, especially the unfriendly-to-Solas Inquisitor never once had any control over Solas. It does, however, play into what's been my most consistent criticism of Solas, but more importantly, Bioware over the past 10 years: it acts like Solas is your fault. It acts like you getting manipulated and played by a vastly more powerful and older and cleverer person is your own fault, or your own responsibility. It's the epitome of Bioware trying to sneakily communicate: "Look what you made me do." And that's Solas' whole deal in Inquisition: he burdens a single, young mortal with proving to a literal god why he shouldn't kill the entire world. And if you fuck up, then Thedas dies. It's not unlike the nasty phenomenon of "if a white person does it, he's mentally ill and an outlier, if a black person does it, all black people are Like That." This is Solas: 'if I do it, I'm a sad rebel making big mistakes. If you do it, you're the reflection of all members of your kind. And my Inquisitor had none of it.

Very telling, Epler. This is you saying, in Bioware style, that there's a correct way of playing Dragon Age games, and there's 'any other ways'. The correct way is 'romance Solas'. The others are just variations on a theme that, in the end, don't really matter. And it shows in Veilguard, it shows. The very least you can do is prioritise your intended path, Epler, while not actively disregarding other paths. This isn't the case. It isn't the case with the entire Thedas universe from these four games, because Veilguard nuked all of the Southern regions in a not so veiled way to say: 'They don't matter. What happened there does matter. You might've felt like each of your PCs achieved a victory, but they were just officers stalling for time. They were all losses in a war that now has to be won, and they just don't matter.' No. My Inquisitor doesn't feel guilty. My Inquisitor is meta level enraged that all he ever was, was an unknowing valet to Solas, and somehow that's his own fault.

Sure. It's not like Tevinter has been ever-present throughout three games, with important NPCs hailing from there, North's influence on the South, and endless codex entries and book material talking about Tevinter. The lore isn't gone, Bioware. It's not a brand new region, it has always existed in Thedas, we just haven't been there personally, but we've read about it. A lot. And you cannot just delete it all like you did in Veilguard. The place has a well-known, established lore to each of its nations. It's not a clean slate.

OH, REALLY???

Really? Really-really??? Really-really-really????? Reeeeeeallly? Reallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreally----

Fair. Reasonable. Expected. But you're not writing a book that requires no personal hands-on involvement by its reader. You're writing a roleplaying game where the player is as much a storyteller as a spectator. And you just wiped the slate clean. Nothing stayed even a little bit fixed. So I, as a player and a fan have to ask: why should I care if all the places in Thedas I mended and helped get destroyed and deleted. Why should I care if the people I care for in the game are all dead. You could argue 'it's for the experience, the transitional nature of time, what matters is the moment and not the end goal' and it's a noble sentiment. But does it make for a great game? Because it's one of humanity's key questions and grievances that has been pursued, fought over, died for: 'Does anything I ever do even matter?' And in real life, the answer is: "It matters if you think it matters." But Dragon Age is not a real world, it's our escape from the real world. It's a place where people come to matter more than in the brief cosmological second we inhabit this universe. We want things to matter in Dragon Age, because in real life they don't. It's why we tell stories, Varric. We want something to last, and something to matter. We want to engage with what hurts us in real life, and we want to change that, and achieve at least some permanence. Because we cannot have that in real life. And Bioware proudly and self-assuredly has said to us: "Nah."

[eccentricallygothic]

Pairing: Eric Northman | Hunter's Daughter!You. 

Warning(s): Smut, m!Dom, f!sub, kissing, makeshift bondage, tongue play, feeding, minor blood play, Eric's fat cock, nipple play, unprotected p-in-v, probably fear kink, human x vampire, forbidden lovers trope, dirty talk, age gap (lmfao). MDNI.

Note: Idk if Eric's in anymore but my kid sister wants to watch True Blood so I showed her the trailer and here we are. Unedited because I've class in a few hours and I am exhausted~

It is dangerous, prohibited, condemned by nature herself. 

And yet, that has never been enough to stop you. 

As you stand in the chilly late evening air in the spot reserved for your meetings with your forbidden love, a shiver breaks out through your body but the reassurance that it would soon be compensated for by the electric touch of the main you await is enough to console you. 

You are looking in the opposite direction of that of your pursuer when he does arrive, his tall figure approaching you faster and quieter than you can process. 

Your surprised gasp doesn't make Eric falter as he zooms to one of his favorite spots to spend time with you in, your smaller body safely tucked in his muscular arms and pressed tightly against his chest. 

The moment your body touches the sturdy ground of the mountaintop on which the silver moonlight shines in the most fascinating way, Eric doesn't allow you a moment to stop and marvel at the scenery. Instead, his desperate hands and hungry lips are on you all at once. His inhuman speed only serves his depraved intentions. 

“Hello to you too—” your cheeky giggle is suppressed against his lips the moment you speak and his cold blue eyes flicker up to yours from the diversion of attention your sweet voice causes for him. 

Eric doesn't have to say it. You can hear it in his cross growls as he relieves you of your clothing by pushing your shirt and bra all the way up to your elbows until you're in a makeshift bondage and your damp pants are laying beside you. He is not happy with how long he has had to wait for you this time. 

You whimper out into his mouth in response, moaning at the feeling of his warm tongue dancing with yours as you lift your crotch to grind against his very stiff one. The waver in your breath is your silent apology as it is clear by now that Eric will not allow you any words tonight. He doesn't when he's not pleased with you, as apologies just sound like lousy excuses to him. And you are not one who dares to challenge him when he is already unhappy with you. Because you have made that mistake a handful of times, and each time, tears and snot were made your best companions. 

Eric's hungry kisses now travel down your chin and along your jaw as the hand that is not fondling your chest feels for your neck now, one of his knees having already expertly parted your legs for his body to slot between. Your throat goes dry from excitement as you look up at the stars, craning your head to the side to give him more access to the junction of your shoulder but arching your back from how his hot lips tickle your tender skin.

Eric growls again once he reaches his spot of choice and sticks his balmy tongue out to lick at the mark you hide under hair and turtlenecks. A cry escapes you when he reproaches you by choking your poor nipple out between his fingertips. When his cold blue eyes come up to glare at you once more, you pout and lean your weeping sex into his covered cock. 

You know why he is unhappy. It has been weeks since your last meeting thanks to your family of hunters that you have to keep as far away from your relationship as possible. One wrong move and everything you have built brick by brick in convincing your father that you had broken things off with the golden haired beast that loomed over you would come tumbling down. You furrow your eyebrows in an earnest manner, trying to get him to understand. It is not like you like being away from him. 

Eric finally relents, for now, when his thick cock twitches inside his pants and he leans down to lick his mark on you again, distastefully grunting at how it has healed from when he last had you. 

Your eyes flutter close from the feeling. Need sparks to life in your torso and snakes its way down your spine before spreading over your loins and dying into the mess you've made between your legs. Blood pumps through your ears in anticipation of what is going to come any second now. The faint clink of Eric's belt coming undone sounds somewhere in your lust stricken stupor and you bite your lip at the same time your ancient lover copies your action except into the delicate skin of your neck.

“Ah!” Is all you can let out as you feel his thick fangs slide into the patchiness of the ditched they created into your flesh a while back. The feeling of him tearing into you has you releasing more slick. You feel your cunt ache and your hole blinks from the way the suckling of his lips makes your head spin. 

Eric places his stiff tip against your opening with his free hand while still feeding on you, taking his sweet time and savoring your taste. You whine out again and your gaping pussy tries to retract defensively. Your cruel lover refuses to prepare you today, it seems. And while it doesn't really surprise you because he tends to do that as a way of exercising his ire on your tight little cunt on days like today, it hurts nevertheless. 

Besides, your pussy is way too small to take his cock as is. 

His groan into your skin makes your whole being reverberate as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Eric detaches his lips from your skin at last to let out a grunt when your stubborn opening keeps refusing him access, instead causing his tip to glide off over and over. 

You try your best to will your entrance to take him, but your tiny band is a brat, as Eric likes to call it. 

“I wonder what your proud father would say if he saw his prodigal daughter like this” Eric's broad shoulders shake from his bitter mirth as he enjoys the pained expression on your face when he moves back on his knees and forces you to slide down his hard shaft. “Mouth covered in her own blood and pussy clamped around the cock of his arch nemesis…” Your back arched as your petals hit the skin of his balls and his cock twitched deep inside your velvet cavern. “Mind too stupid for any dignified resolve” his long fingers gently stroked the strands covering your face away. “Do you want any such resolve, little one?”

A whimper escapes you when he snatches one of your hips in one hand and snakes his other arm around your back to lift you up and against him. Your pussy clenches when your eyes meet and you moan when he presses his blood covered lips to yours again, smearing the metallic liquid into your mouth with his tongue. It only makes you slot your trapped arms around his neck before you pull him closer. 

“N- No, Eric! O- Only—” the vehemence with which you shook your head was a humiliating one for a sober person. “Only you!” You screamed out as he lifted you off his cock, your pussy squelching soundly in the process, before slamming you down on his sack again.

[kiwi-on-ice]

HEYY, love your posts on tt. So I got something really specific I'm looking for. Lately here I've been absolutely head over heels for Cassidy's look in volume 4 of the New Blood comics.

Could you write a fem!reader x Cassidy scenario where they go on vacation at a little cabin in the mountains during the winter (reader's idea), Cassidy shares the coat and a kiss with the reader when he notices they're a little tool cold and then brings them inside to "warm them up" 🤭 (established relationship+ tons of flirting)

Cole Cassidy x fem!reader

Summary: After pleading with Cole for a long-awaited vacation, your ill advised outfit choice means your boyfriend is tasked with warming you up.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, pretty vanilla for my usual writing lmao, no use of y/n, pussy eating, loads of petnames, also loads of ass grabbing, creampie

Notes: Hope you like it anon! Also i'm not American so typing out the word 'vacation' is kinda weird for me aha.

“Y’know, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Came the smooth voice of your boyfriend as you got out of the rental car, glancing around with a big grin painted on his features. The dark wood cabin you'd rented for a week looks striking against the crisp white blanket of snow resting on the woodland and mountaintops. Crunching footsteps reach your ears as he comes up to your side and wraps his arm around your waist, letting you relax into his side like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

You’d begged Cole to have a break for months; after Overwatch joined back together he’d been all around the world recruiting new agents, and you couldn’t be prouder of your lover for dedicating himself to protecting the world. However, you’d seen first hand how this workload has affected him, the dark circles under his eyes that seem to get deeper and deeper, the frown lines that seemed to be permanently etched into his face. Reminding him that he doesn’t need to handle the weight of the world alone, you’d suggested a vacation but was met by a dismissive tone. How he couldn’t just leave everyone, there was so much work to be done, what if null sector attacked again? What if the new recruits need his help?

Despite his resistance, you felt the adoration for him increase tenfold at his worrying; gone were the days of the lone gunslinger, caring about himself only. You can see now the positive change in him, although it doesn’t alter the fact he’d been overworking herself for months. So you kept bring it up, suggesting different places until one finally caught his eye. And here you are now, the crisp winter air chilling you as you cuddle up to him, your breath visible in the winter air. Cole however seems eager to look round, grabbing your hand and taking you up to the front of the cabin, his eyes peaking in to the windows.

“Look at this beauty.” He marvels, walking around the sides of the building without a care; no doubt his fur lined coat keeping him warm against the chill in the air but you unfortunately aren’t so lucky. You regret not bundling up, bundling up like he told you, now clinging your arms around yourself to preserve some heat as Cole analyses the cabin.

“Don’t suppose the lake will be good enough for fishin’, still I bet we’ll find some things to do. Maybe that railway we passed, assumin’ they’ve cleared the snow.” He speaks, unaware of you currently freezing to death behind him as he heads to the car to grab your things. Hurriedly you follow him, and just before he pops the trunk, he glances at you.

“Cold, pumpkin?” he asks teasingly with a chuckle, causing you to scoff softly and deflect.

“No, I’m fine. Just a little chilly.” You lie, your breath visible as you speak. Humming, he smirks and steps closer.

“Is that right? Well I’m cold, maybe I’ll take that flimsy jacket off ya’ if you don’t need it-“ he says, reaching for your jacket and causing you to react and slap his hand away.

“Don’t you dare.” You snap quickly, causing a throaty laugh to escape him.

“I knew it, why you refuse to listen t’me is beyond my comprehension angel, so damn stubborn.” He playfully reprimands you. He’d told you to grab a coat, but you didn’t think it would be this cold, so you blew him off. He instead looks down at you, wrapping his strong hands around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. “Lemme warm you up, hm?”

Despite the temperature, you feel heat rise to your cheeks at his flirtatious, before you giggle softly. “Such a flirt.” You mumble.

“For warmin’ up my girl?” he says lowly, tickling your ear with his warm breath. “You wound me, thinkin’ so lowly of me.”

You’re really giggling now, as he undoes his coat and throws it over the both of you. This causes you to huddle further into his broad chest, feeling the heat of his body as he presses you against himself. You sigh happily, your cheek smushed against his chest and your mind clearing. Feeling his fingertips stroke up the expanse of your back makes you happy you both have taken the time to rest here.

His hands wander down to your lower back, before grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you impossibly close, causing you to let out a squeak.

“Cole!” you say with a huff, to which he smirks into your hairline.

“What? Can you blame me? Those jeans should be criminal sugar.”

He punctuates his words with another squeeze of your ass, kneading the flesh and causing you to squirm against him. You slap his arm lightly, pretending to be annoyed but he can see right through you. He chuckles at your antics, feeling you up gently and humming in satisfaction at the way your body feels against his touch. Often he wonders what he did to be lucky enough to get a girl like you, so caring and kind to him...but also goddamn just his type. The way your ass feels in his rough hands, the way your voice sounds as you gasp or tease him, you're just perfect for the gunslinger. He hums as if in thought, before leaning in to your ear.

“Y’know…if you’re still cold, I could always help warm you up.” He whispers, letting the insinuation run up your spine like electricity. Your cheeks warm as you nod slowly, causing him to pick you up with a grunt. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” you say with another huff, holding on to him as he takes you inside. You giggle at the way you both look, with him carrying you bridal style into the cabin; almost like newlyweds. You both look around inside, the cabin beautifully rustic in its interior decor. The living area is open plan, with a large comfortable looking sofa facing a baroque fireplace. Kicking his boots off, he feels the fur rug under his feet as he makes his way to the sofa, plopping you down onto it and grinning down at you.

“Why don’t I light the fireplace, then we can really warm up.” He states as moves to mess with the fireplace, figuring out how to light it. Deciding to be a tease, you quickly take your top off, removing your bra and throwing them both on the floor unceremoniously. You debate taking your jeans off, but decide to keep them on after Cole's earlier teasing words, lounging back on the comfy fabric as your boyfriend curses under his breath at the task.

“Damn you, stupid th-“ he stops when the fireplace is lit, grinning in satisfaction. “There we are sugar, nice and warm.”

He turns, and his eyes widen as he takes in your current form. You swear you hear his breathing pattern change as he takes in the sudden sight. Cheeks flushed, he stares for a moment, just drinking in the image of you.

“Goddamn sweetness, look at you.” He praises, the grin still on his face as well as the flushed colour. “Such a little tease hm?”

Rising from his knees, he walks over to you leisurely. His gaze doesn’t even hide that it’s firmly set on your tits, before he leans over you.

“Like what you see?” You tease up at him.

“You know I do.” He murmurs, gently tracing down your neck. “Mighty fine sight you are.”

You go to sit up, before he pushes you back down softly and straddles you. His callous fingers trace over your waist, moving up and groping your tits.

“Thought you were cold.” He challenges, as you arch your back up to his touch.

“I am…you’re helping.” You can’t help but say, gasping softly as he pinches your nipples gently.

“That right? Guess I’ll continue.”

He massages your tits firmly, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Relaxing against him, you let him take control of the kiss as his tongue runs along your bottom lip.

“Don’t want my girl freezin' on the vacation she pestered me for.” He whispers against your lips, punctuating his words with another squeeze of your tender nipples. Your hips buck instinctively at his attention, causing his hips to pin you down on the sofa. Lips trail from your mouth to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses in their wake before he starts to bite gently, giving you a hickey.

“So sweet…” he mumbles, admiring the mark he left. It always give him a rush, marking you. Seeing the way your skin bares a reminder of the love and desire he holds for you. He kisses down to your collarbones, then downwards further before reaching your chest. With a grin he licks at your nipple and blows cool air on it, reveling as you squirm.

“Cole…” you whine, causing him to chuckle and shush you. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Lavishing your breast with his attention, he then moves to give the other one the same treatment, sucking softly before gently nibbling to cause that delightful gasp from you.

Your fingers thread into his hair, tugging a little as he kisses down your navel to the hem of your jeans. Licking the skin just above the denim, he shifts upwards with a soft grunt before unbuttoning your jeans.

"You sure you want these off?" He asks with a cocky grin on his face, "Don't want you catchin' more of a chill."

You nod, pushing your hips up to allow him to slip the clothing down your legs. "Need you.."

He laughs a little, callous fingertips contrasting with the smooth skin of your thighs. "My girl's always needy f'me."

Using his metal hand to rip your underwear, he takes a moment to appreciate your naked form in all its glory. You can't help but notice lately he's been...for lack of a better word admiring you more and more. The look in his eyes is something new, a new sort of excitement and contentment that never fails to steal the breath from your lungs.

Small kisses work their way up your legs, before he's eye level with your dripping cunt, beard scratching lightly at your inner thighs. "Can I?"

With your permission, he lets out a soft groan before licking a stripe up your pussy. He laps at you gently at first, savouring the taste as you gently run your gingers through his brown locks. Moving his tongue in rhythmic motions, trying to draw out every last breath and moan from your parted lips. He flicks his tongue against your clit, grinning at the higher pitched noise that escaped as he digs his fingers into your thighs. But the need for you takes over, so he dives in to his meal.

"Always taste so good...all mine." he mutters against your heat, almost like he's saying it to himself as he makes out with your cunt happily. Eyes closed, hair a mess, your thighs lightly squeezing his head; Cole Cassidy is sure he's in heaven.

As you start to rock your hips into his mouth, he lets you, laying his tongue flat and letting you take your pleasure from him. His hands gently squeeze your thighs, moaning softly at your juices on his tongue. He starts to move his head, shaking it from side to side slightly to ensure he tastes every inch. The grip you have in his hair gets tighter, the pleasure causing your thighs to start to shake.

As you look down, you notice your boyfriend's hips rocking into the soft fabric of the sofa. Cole's desperation was intense, the sweet taste of your cunt never failing to get him hard and almost leaking in his briefs as he tongue-fucks you to his hearts content. Small grunts surge from his lips, travelling through your pussy and causing you to get closer and closer to the edge.

"Nearly there..." you warn him, and you're met with a soft growl as he double down on his efforts. His tongue dances along your folds before focusing on your clit, flicking and sucking. With that final push, you cum loudly like you know he loves, as he determinedly licks up all that you give him. He pulls away a little, his beard drenched with your juices as he catches his breath.

As he glances at you, sweaty and breathing heavily, his eyes are drawn to the way your nipples have hardened. "Oh look at that darlin', you still cold? Well we can't have that..."

With surprising strength he yanks you in his arms and settles you on the fur rug in front of the fireplace on your hands and knees. Immediately you sink slightly into position, arching your back a little as he hurriedly undoes his belt.

"So good for me ain't ya? Such a sweet girl...my sweet girl." he almost rambles as he rids himself of his clothing, before pressing against you so you can feel his excitement on the back of your thigh. Gently peppering kisses to the back of your neck, he smiles against your skin as you make a content sound. "Gonna fuck ya till you're nice and warm."

With that declaration, he slowly pushes inside with a grunt. "God you're always so tight..." he gets out with a stunted breath, his hands immediately gripping your hips to keep you still. He savours the sweet sensation, before slowly pumping his hips.

The slow movements mixed with the crackling of the fire make for a divine experience, your eyes fluttering closed as you allow yourself to be present in the moment. Sighing, you feel his fingers draw small circles on the meat of your hips and love handles.

"So fuckin' good...can I go faster baby?" he asks, which results in a resounding yes from you. With your permission he starts to thrust faster, groaning at the feeling of your cunt taking him in so willingly. You keen as your back arches, never getting tired of your boyfriend railing you.

He can never resist in this position grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing as he pulls you back into his thrusts. Moaning, he brings his hand up to give you a firm spank, causing you to jump and whine.

"H-hey..." you fake complain, although Cole didn't miss the soft whine of pleasure that escaped you.

"Awe, did that hurt pumpkin?" he coos in a teasing tone. He ends his sentence with a rough thrust, causing your breath to catch as he smirks. "Oops, guess that hurt too. And this."

He reaches round and grabs at your tits, his chest against your back almost as he pummels your g spot with shallow thrusts. Watching your reactions, he can't help but feel a rush at every noise that spills from your throat. The way your ass ripples with every snap of his hips has his dick throbbing inside of you, but after a while, he pulls out and grunts, smacking your ass.

"On the sofa again, I ain't a spring chicken no more you know? M'knees can't take it." he chuckles softly, as you giggle at his slight self-deprecation. He helps you up, before guiding you back to the sofa. Laying down, he gets comfortable as you get on top and sink yourself back on his cock. "Yeah sugar...you know this is my favourite."

"Because you don't have to do any work?" you tease with a giggle, causing him to huff and thrust upwards.

"No, ain't nothing wrong with wantin' to see my goddess of a girl bouncin' on me." he defends himself with a lazy grin, his hands stroking your thighs as you move yourself up and down. You can't help but giggle at his praise as you look down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly with every movement you make.

Gripping his shoulders for support, you lift yourself and slam back down over and over, watching as his eyes almost glaze over in hazy satisfaction. He feels his cowboy hat slip, and with another smirk grabs it and puts it on top of your head.

"That's it baby, you my cowgirl huh? Gonna ride me?" he teases, although his pupils blow wide as he sees how stunning you look completely naked with his hat. You nod, using one hand to stabilise yourself while the other keeps the hat firmly on your head as you ride him. In that moment, Cole wishes he could take a picture and look at it every single time he's apart from you; truly you're a goddess in his eyes.

With his hips twitching, he can't help but thrust up into you, gripping your hips like you were gonna disappear if he let go. With a whimper, you feel your second orgasm of the evening build up inside you as you move.

"Cole..." you begin, but he knows your body like he knows his way around a revolver.

"I know sugar I know, gonna cum for me ain't ya?" he encourages, his hips really moving up into you now as he watches your face contort with pleasure. One hand slipping down to play with your clit, you move desperately, chasing your orgasm.

"That's it, take what you need." your boyfriend grunts out, and you do, using his cock to get yourself to the edge. You cum with a cry of his name, causing the breath to be almost punched out of his lungs at how beautiful you look. He starts to pound up into your cunt, groaning.

"Yeah that's it, just a little longer angel. Just a bit more...gonna make me...fuck...cum inside that pretty pussy."

You let him use you, and it isn't long before he makes good on his word and fills you up, moaning deeply in satisfaction. You collapse on his chest as he holds you close, running his hands up and down your sides as your breathing syncs up with each-other. He grips your hips to lift you off his cock, and you whine as the cool air hits your cunt as his release spills slowly out of you, most likely making a mess of both your boyfriend and the sofa. A bit of you almost pities the next people who stay here, knowing they'll have to sit on a sofa with Cole's cum stains on it, but your pleasure outweighs the potential guilt. After a few minutes of bliss, Cole pipes up.

"So...you suitably warmed up?" he grins, and it widens when he hears your soft laugh.

"Yeah i'm warm...maybe a little too warm."

"You're just never happy, are you?" he laments sarcastically, chucking as you lightly slap him on the arm. You snuggle into him, feeling him hold you close and tight. "M'happy you suggested this baby, gonna be a relaxin' few days here with you."

Smiling happily, you nod softly. This is all you wanted, for him to rest like he deserves. "Yeah...a nice break."

"A nice break." he repeats, before kissing you on the temple. "Just don't go out with that flimsy jacket on, y'hear me? Unless you just want me to drag your pretty ass back inside and fuck you till you're all nice and warm again."

[1000sunnygo]

One Piece Academy chapter 51: The legend of the radiant summit (Quick translation)

index

Editor's note: ☆ Featuring Corazon VS Doflamingo, Volume 9 now on sale!

Swaying on a train, everyone arrived at The ✨ Snowy Mountain!

[Swoosh]

Luffy: LET'S GO!

Nami: I'm not gonna lose~!

Luffy: Uwooh~~!!

Brook: Man, it sure feels nice... a stark, white ski slope. Might get frost bites, even though I don't have the skin for it! Yohoho!

Koby:....

Vivi: Let's enjoy it to our fullest, it's a whooping 2-night-3-days skiing and snowboarding trip after all!

Robin: It was a great limited time grand-offer for the middle schoolers. But as a result...

... EVERYONE has shown up.

Croc: This isn't dry enough.

Hancock: Luffy~!! Let's ca... carve some ski tracks together...! <3

Kidd: I can speed blitze your ass!

Law: Zip it, schuss bastard.

Lucci: Don't lose focus, Student Council.

Buggy: It's Buggy~!

Koby: Just hope a brawl doesn't stir up...

Sanji: Well, shouldn't be a headache since we have the student corps with us. *eyeing Koby*

Helmeppo: Say wha-?!

Usopp: Geez, you lot... stop yammering and take a look over there!

Koby: Eh?

Usopp: That majestic mountaintop reaching over the clouds!

Koby: Woah??! That's ridiculously tall!

Usopp: When you compare somethin' like that to our worries, they all become dinky specks.

Chopper: Dinky specks...

Usopp: Yep, dinky specks.

Chopper: Dinky specks!

Nami: Cmon boys, skate hard until sunset!

Others: Yeah!!!

[Evening]

Luffy: Ahh, that was so much fun!

Nami: Let's head to the inn..!

*reaches the inn*

!!!

Everyone: Todays inn...is this?

Franky: The design rings a bell...

Koby: I've got a bad feeling...

A certain someone: Fufufufu.....

Doffy: Nice to see y'all!

Everyone: DOFLAMINGO!

Luffy: Ooh, Mingo!

Nami: Don't tell me...

Doflamingo: Fufufufu.. Been running this ski resort since last year. Prepared an inn as well.

Koby/Usopp: Woaah!!

Vivi: Thanks for the next two days!

Doffy: Make yourself comfortable.

Usopp: Vivi! This place is a bad news!

*door creaks*

Usopp: n?

Monet: Welcome, first years.

[New World Middle School, 2nd year class 8,

Monet chan]

Tonjit: Come in, get warm inside!

[Mountain inn caretaker, Tonjit san]

Robin: Monet!

Monet: Oh my, Robin!

Usopp: You know her?

Robin: Fellow library committee member.

Luffy: *stares*

Tonjit: Hm?

Continues in Reblog ⬇️

[shanastoryteller]

happy pride! god zagreus, please?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

It's not that difficult to find the bright, blazing light of Zagreus above the surface and pull himself there. He didn't even go very far - he's still on the same mountain as the entrance to the underworld.

Except when he appears, it's nothing like the mountaintop he remembers. All his angry words die on his tongue, replaced with a tentative sort of wonder.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Zagreus asks, beaming as he gestures to the lush forest and garden, full of plants and fruit that he's never seen before, in colors that shouldn't exist.

It's wild, but cultivated. They're in front of a fountain and there's a cobblestone path winding deeper into the forest, and even a hammock and a fishing pole near the pond, which is the part that he focuses on because it's the part that's connected to the Zagreus that he knows. He can easily imagine him lounging in that hammock for hours, pole held in a lazy grip that flicks back whenever he feels a bite.

"Prince?"

He turns and there is a woman coming up the path. She's beautiful, for a mortal, and just as lush as the greenery surrounding them. Zagreus's power is all around them, but she glows with it, giving her a subtle golden aura that any immortal could pick up on.

"Eliana," Zagreus says warmly. "Your father is taken care of. He was bragging about you to Sisyphus when I left."

She smiles, and it's tinged with sadness, but she says, "Thank you. You're all he talked about at the end. He was so excited to meet you."

He ducks his head. "Well, I hope I lived up to his expectations."

Zagreus had said that he wasn't married, but what else can this mortal be, who is cloaked in his power and speaks to him so casually? Thanatos's stomach flips then fills with acid.

"You never disappoint," she reassures, voice warm and fond and familiar. She flickers her eyes in his direction and raises an eyebrow.

"Ah," Zagreus's grin widens. "There's someone I want you to meet. This is Thanatos, the god of death, and, more importantly, he is my oldest and dearest friend."

She bows to him deeply, although she does not fully prostrate herself, which he feels uncharacteristically miffed about.

"Thanatos, this is Eliana. She is my high priestess. She oversees my the building of my temples and my orchards and is charged with discharging blessings in my name."

Ah.

No wonder she had not gotten to her knees before him. That level of devotion is reserved only for the god who's power she wields.

"You're a god," he says, staring at Zagreus, trying to reconcile everything he thought he knew with what's in front of him.

He smiles, teasing. "I've always been a god."

Yes and no.

He was always a god, but one without a domain. One without temples or worshippers or tributes. Even Thanatos doesn't have temples in his name.

"What are you the god of?" he asks, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat.

Eliana answers, "Our Prince is the god of life and the god of blood. Only he can provide shelter against the endless winter."

Thanatos blinks, because out of everything he's been told, this is the most unbelievable. "You - you're trying to stand against Demeter?"

"I have been standing against Demeter," he says, that familiar arrogance in every line of his body. "Who besides me? I am the son of the Lord of the Underworld and the Goddess of Spring. I will stave off death and call forth spring, for I am the god of life."

Fuck.

Thanatos misses a couple minutes ago when he thought they just had a civil war to deal with.

[mollyjames]

I do have an Elden Ring hot take that everyone I've told so far hates but agrees with

If Mountaintop of the Giants, Crumbling Farum Azula, and the Haligtree had been cut from the game and sold to us as DLC for $30, not only would the length of the game no longer be a major point of criticism, but that DLC would be hailed as one of the best DLCs fromsoft has ever done

[abyssalzones]

What's your comic writing process like? I'm starting to get into making my own comics and I really admire your work!!! Any advice?

Ah, intrepid traveler, you've done well to journey to this secluded mountaintop spire, in search of the answers you seek. I indeed can provide such forbidden comicmancy knowledge... at the cost of your mortal soul...

coughs. anyway, I'm going to warn you immediately that what works for me does not work for everyone else, and in my experience the way I do things can prove very slow and discouraging for anyone who is more interested in the actual "drawing the damn comic" part of the process. I only do it this way because I enjoy weaving a narrative web that feels not only fully contained but re-readable, but my projects are often so long and my memory so shitty that I can't just keep all of it in my head! It would spill all over the place and make a really embarrassing mess of brain-juice. Not ideal.

but as for my own process, uhh... I suppose a comic would be fitting, right?

a little choppy but you get the idea.

as for turning words into art, I've been experimenting with figuring out the best way to do that for a little while now. Originally what I was doing for something like Ad Astra Per Aspera was to take my "script" and sketch it out on paper very loosely, before transposing that onto my canvas and working from there:

...but, I've found that can make it kind of difficult to space everything around on your standard page-size, and the thing I'm having the most problems with currently seems to be finding the sweet spot of panel-size proportions. So, I've taken to printing out standard thumbnail templates (you can just find these on google) and sketching very tiny panels in those, which seems to give me a slightly better sense of scale... (mild chapter 5 spoilers, sorry ad astra fans)

but I have yet to totally pull through on this, so who knows, maybe I'll try something else in the future!

As for advice, this is probably most applicable to me, but as a disabled artist I have a very hard time managing my workload without literally working myself into injury. I don't think I talked about this publicly but when I was working on that ten year anniversary comic I was literally drawing every single day for 3 solid months. Sometimes, in my case, I really can't bring myself to stop once I've latched onto an idea, and sometimes I find the most rewarding thing I can do with my time is to draw- but I seriously cannot overstate: Do not fucking do this.

You will fuck up your wrist, your back, your neck, your eyes, and probably your mental health. It's a well-known fact that mangaka have a lower life expectancy than the average japanese person due to the intense workload imposed on them by deadlines and personal expectations. Comics are a very demanding artform, and even though I'm not on any sort of mandated schedule there are times where I've toiled away at something when I likely should have been exercising or taking vision-breaks. Therefore the best advice I can give you is to chill the hell out.

Namely, find parts of the process you can be lazy about, and embrace the laziness! You don't like digitally sketching? Don't do it! Skip it, or maybe find a way to traditionally sketch things out in advance like I do. Hate lineart? Don't fucking do it. You really don't feel like wasting your time writing 72k words of comic scripts? ...then, don't be like me. skip that part. I'm a flawed human being and what works for me might not work for you.

The second most important piece of advice I could give is to read comics. Of all kinds. The reason for this is pretty self explanatory: In order to figure out your own comic-making style, you should first pick out bits and pieces from the artist's buffet to add to your plate. Manga, graphic novels, american comics, european comics, weird niche little webcomics, funny papers, anything and everything. This advice rings true of pretty much any art form, but I find it to be essential to honing comic-making skills because so many things you feel will just come intuitively often don't. and that's okay! nobody is born knowing how to leave space for speech bubbles or shape their panels in a way that imitates stretches of time. The best way to figure out stuff like this, in my experience, is to study the "masters", and then after becoming well accustomed to the basics, figure out what rules you want to bend or break to create your own style.

I consider myself to be in equal parts a writer and an artist, which lends itself well to making narrative comics, but maybe you're a bit more of an artist and want to focus on panel-by-panel visual storytelling. Or, conversely, maybe your talents lean closer towards writing, and the art itself is more of a secondary skill. Regardless of your unique blend of talents you can and should make a comic, you should just also be aware of your strengths and try to hone in on those- there will always be opportunities to build up skills you lack, but focusing on what you do best will always lead you in the right direction.

Anyway, that being said, here are some recommendations in no particular order:

Monster, Naoki Urasawa (!!)

Bone, Jeff Smith

Witch Hat Atelier, Kamome Shirahama

The first IDW run of Transformers comics (namely More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light)

Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi (!!)

Through the Woods, Emily Carroll (really any Emily Carroll comics)

Kill Six Billion Demons (webcomic) (!!)

Akira, Katsuhiro Otomo

The Third Person, Emma Grove

Tintin, Herg�� (can be super racist please be wary)

Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Watterson

Maus, Art Spiegelman

Cucumber Quest (webcomic)

Jellyfish Princess, Akiko Higashimura

Golden Kamuy, Satoru Noda (!!)

Note that I did not grow up with manga so I am seriously behind on a lot of extremely influential japanese comics such as Dragon Ball, One Piece, basically any of the original Shonen Jump comics, but they're widely considered building blocks of the genre so if you love the artform I think you should give them a try! Same goes for classic non-shonen manga genres like various Shoujo, Josei, Yuri, Gekiga, ETC.

same as above applies to a lot of classic DC and Marvel works, I unfortunately am just not a big fan of superhero comics... but I'm sure there's good stuff in there. a couple of my mutuals talk about booster gold and the blue beetle all the time so I'm assuming there has to be something worthwhile.

...and many, many, many more that I'm forgetting! I noticed as I made this list that, to my knowledge, hardly any of these are made by black or just non-japanese-mangaka BIPOC artists, which makes me sad about the gaps in my own comic collection. Therefore, anyone is welcome to add their own recommendations in the replies!

now go forth, and combine images with text!!!!!!!!!!!

[repulsive-manwhore]

saliva anon again :)

not sending a pic for safety reasons but i can provide a better description?

ive been imagining u as my therapist at residential and learning all of my trauma and triggers and how to get to me the best. u ask me abt my kinks pretending that its for therapy work on my subconscious when u actually js wanna use them against me, raping me on your cock every night when night staff isnt looking. use my trauma against me to make me dependent on and idealize u and while u degrade me for liking something so messed up

just got out of res btw so this feels very real

😘

i feel like dynamics like this happen a lot more than people think, behind closed doors. i've always found the dynamic between therapist and patient to be hot, even if it's non-sexual. think about it; you're revealing your deepest, darkest secrets, the most fucked up things about your life, the most fucked up thoughts in your head, to someone who - in the beginning at least - is a total stranger. and that's your introduction to this therapist, this stranger; your trauma, your disorders, and whatever you look like on the outside. the relationship builds from there, it doesn't get to that point, and that's why i think stuff like this happens. obsession starts where empathy and desire simultaneously align and peak, like a crossroad on a mountaintop. when a beautiful man meets a beautiful woman, and vice versa, and they see eye to eye, and they talk to each other every single day, completely in private in that same office, and get to know every little thing about each other, every corner and crevice of each other's fucked up heads, but they still want to know more...

congratulations on getting out of res! proud of you, as someone who has been in similar shoes ❤️ hope you enjoy this reply!

[blaiddfailcam]

Ranni and Miquella's crossed fates

I've briefly mentioned before my thoughts on Ranni and Miquella's intertwined fates and their potential cooperation, but I swear I keep finding more and more subtle hints and decided I should probably start jotting them down, if only for my own amusement.

Some of these are observations, others are my own theories based on said observations. Take them with a sizeable grain of salt.

Torrent and the spiritcalling bell

The Shadow of the Erdtree promo art appears to imply that Miquella was Torrent's former master. Ranni was entrusted the spiritcalling bell by this enigma.

Torrent was entrusted to Melina, who by deduction is potentially Miquella and Malenia's amnesiac sister. It wasn't just chance that brought the two together, but could have been part of Miquella's plan all along.

The spiritcalling bell shares a similar function to those used by Revenant Worshippers to summon forth wraiths. For whatever reason, Revenants appear numerously in areas associated with either Miquella or Ranni, and seldom elsewhere.

His name calls to mind rushing waters, falling in line with the theme of flowing water to counter stagnation and rot. Malenia was tutored by the Blind Swordsman, after all, whose flowing sword sealed the Outer God of Rot long ago.

Torrent's eyes are the same pure gold color as the Miquellan Albinaurics, differentiated by their uniform pigmentation from the golden irises of "grace-given" beings.

Conescrated Snowfield's relevance to Ranni

It is the only location where Rimed Crystal Buds grow, an ingredient used expressly for crafting Frost Pots, a weapon devised specifically by Ranni's servants.

The white bowers are only found elsewhere in the regions of Siofra River, surrounding Nokron. Likewise, two Followers can be found in the Snowfield.

Astel reappears in Yelough Anix Tunnel.

Black Knife Assassins lend aid to Ordina to guard the Haligtree from unwanted guests.

Consecrated Snowfield's situation at the northernmost region of the map, west of the Mountaintops of the Giants, parallels the positions of the Dark Moon and the Full Moon in the northern sky, as seen from the Moonlight Altar.

Carian influences in Elphael

Loretta, a knightess of Caria, elected the land of the Haligtree to be the most promising refuge for the Albinaurics of Liurnia, pledging fealty to Miquella while maintaining a protective spell over her former house. She was not marked a traitor to Caria, suggesting an alliance between the two houses.

The Miquellan Knight's Sword illustrates a clear borrowing of craftsmanship by the Haligtree, modeled after Carian weaponry, yet substituting holy amber for glintstone.

On the contrary, the Black Leather Shield, purchased from Pidia the Albinauric, appears to hint at the location of the Haligtree: "From the north, this shield depicts the polar star in rivets of gold." The Celtic motifs typical of Miquellan weapons and armor faintly trace the edges of the shield.

There's also the mystery of the Amber Starlight Shard. Pidia offers a map leading to a hidden statue of Miquella and Malenia where the shard is found; Seluvis requires the shard to try and gain control over Ranni. The shard itself is said to be the lost fate of a demigod...

Ranni and Miquella's lost Great Runes

Certain details suggest the Great Rune of the Unborn had actually been intended for Miquella, from its function as a device for rebirth, to the amber egg that cradles it, even down to how its shape matches Malenia's Great Rune, albeit smaller and pure gold.

The children reborn of the amber egg all possess eyes of mixed gold and greenish-blue. Strangely, this mixed pigmentation only appears elsewhere in the eyes of Revenant Worshippers, again reinforcing that bizarre connection with at least one of the two Empyreans in question.

Ranni also lacks a Great Rune, yet a somewhat commonheld theory is that the moon bears a marking that can be seen within the Elden Ring, yet isn't connected to any of the other Great Runes. It depicts a vertical line intersected with upward arcs, like a sort of ripple.

This sigil is also seen in the Ripple Blades carried by young Albinaurics, and even in the Haligtree Crest itself. Though the number of "ripples" and their curvatures vary, the general symbol remains consistent.

Blind guesses as to what it all means

A sword memorial in Altus Plateau reads as follows:

"A sovereign alliance rots from within.

"Traces yet remain of bloody conspiracy."

At first, I thought this might have been referring to Mohg and Miquella, and that Mohg had sworn an alliance with the Haligtree in conspiracy to abduct the sleeping Empyrean. However, it's not entirely unlikely that it could refer to Ranni and Miquella's alliance, and perhaps their potential conspiracy that would culminate in the death of Godwyn and the shattering of the Elden Ring.

While Miquella had clearly worked to either ensure Godwyn would die a true death, or that he could restore his soul through the rite at Castle Sol, but either failed or was thwarted, just like when Mohg abducted him from the Haligtree. For all we know, maybe Ranni even deceived Miquella with a pact.

As for their missing Great Runes, and the Haligtree's plantation in a region more befitting a Lunar Princess, I almost get the sense that, having clarified her intent to rid herself of her Empyrean destiny, Ranni offered Miquella passage to the north, and possibly even the Great Rune she had inherited. This effectively allowed them to trade fates, but it remains to be seen what Miquella/Trina's plans truly were, if the DLC might offer any hints.

Or, perhaps their fates had been entangled from the beginning, starting with Radagon's sly subjugation of the Carian lineage, and his vow of silence enforced upon the Carian Preceptors to hide what the stars might portend. Either way, it seems clear that Ranni and Miquella harbored a mutual distaste for the stagnation of the Golden Order.

...I'm fully prepared for this theory to split apart at the seams when Shadow of the Erdtree drops (hopefully soonish??????). Still, it's fun to mull over in the meantime.

[sellensand]

The truth about the Golden Lineage

Ok sooo I've just had a MASSIVE realization about Godfrey's children with Marika and I need to share it with the Elden Ring lore community. I have no idea if anyone has already put this theory forward, but as soon as it crossed my mind I knew I had to write it down before I forgot about it.

ELDEN RING SPOILERS BELOW.

I had always kind of assumed that Godwyn the Golden was Godfrey and Marika's firstborn child. This is not stated anywhere though, it was no more than an assumption on my behalf. So I began to wonder... what if the omen twins were actually older than Godwyn? What if they were Marika's first children with Godfrey? The Crucible predates the Golden Age of the Erdtree after all...

Once again, I had always assumed that Morgott and Mohg were thrown into the sewers of Leyndell as soon as they were born, which doesn't really make any sense considering:

- They are both quite well-spoken. They don't act like they were brought up by giant slugs and rats with no contact with the outside world. They are not like the feral omens we fight in the sewers.

- They had to use special shackles in order to keep them down there. As if... they would try to escape. To go back home. Someone had to make sure they never got out.

- They brought at least one doll with them. Newborn babies don't play with dolls, children do.

- Godfrey's words towards Morgott ("It's been a long while...") and the way he holds his son's dead body imply they once knew each other. They once had some kind of relationship. And I'm inclined to believe that Morgott remembers and loves his father too: as SmoughTown points out in his latest video, the magic seal from which Godfrey's golden ghost appears is the exact same Crucible seal that Morgott uses when he "teleports". Morgott created a spectral protector of the Erdtree in the image of his father (I'm about to cry).

So, if Mo & Mo once lived in the surface, why were they shunned? Well, here comes the crazy part. Once upon a time, in the Age of the Crucible, horns, scales, wings and other beastly parts were considered sacred, divine. They were the manifestation of the power of the Tree, from which all life begins, where all life is blended together. With Godfrey being a man from the Age of the Crucible (his knights are the Crucible Knights), it is possible that his first children with Marika, Mo & Mo, were actually revered when they were born.

However, at some point, something motivated Marika to change the dogma. The conquest of the Mountaintops of the Giants gave way to the Golden Age of the Erdtree. All things Crucible were suddenly frown upon. Lord Godfrey and his warriors were exiled from the Lands Between. And the omen twins had to be forsaken.

LUCKILY the royal couple had produced another child, one more in line with the religious ideals of the new age: Godwyn, a perfectly built golden boy, without any Crucible in him. A strikingly handsome prince, with a gorgeous set of long, androginous, golden hair, who we've only seen wearing a beautifully embroidered skirt. His looks and his fashion sense always reminded me of a certain red-headed champion of the Golden Age of the Erdtree...

Has anyone else noticed that the items related to the Prince of Death require both Faith and Intelligence? I'm talking about the Prince of Death's Staff (allegedly made out of a fragment of Godwyn's corpse) and all of the Death sorceries (which said staff boosts). You know which other items also require both of those stats, right? Well, as far as I know, only Rykard's Magma sorceries and the Golden Order incantations need both Fai and Int to be used. And the Sword of Night and Flame, yes, a Carian heirloom hidden in their Manor.

HUH. I wonder what the Carian royal family and Golden Order Fundamentalism have in common... OH, I KNOW. They are both connected to Radagon, the champion who aspired to be complete by dominating both sorceries and incantations.

My point is... What if Godwyn is not Godfrey's? What if he's Radagon's? What if he was Marika's first attempt at having descendants by herself? She was devastated by Godwyn's death because he was her favorite, her perfect golden boy, a personification of the Golden Order and a living proof that she was the One True God.

Now let's have some fun with this theory. We all know about Miquella's obsession with Godwyn ("O brother, lord brother..."). Some have speculated that the statue of the older figure embracing young Miquella and Malenia in Loretta's arena in the Haligtree might be Godwyn, because it doesn't sport Marika/Radagon's signature braid and the asset is apparently flat-chested (according to Vaati's Miquella Lore video).

Did either Miquella or Godwyn know the truth? Was Godwyn particularly protective of the Empyrean twins because they were more than just his half-siblings? I honestly don't know, buy it's not hard to imagine what they felt after their older brother's murder...

I obviously don't have all the answers, but if all of the above was true, it would mean that the whole Golden Lineage is built on a lie, because the firstborn male heir of Godfrey was not only not the firstborn at all, but he was also not Godfrey's! This would be so GRRM it's insane! Even Godrick's pride and his fondness of Lion iconography becomes all the more ridiculous!

Am I going too far with this? Please let me know if I'm losing my mind over this game.

(Oh and link me to any similar theories if you know of any, because I can't be the only one crazy enough to have thought about this).

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

April 4, 1968: Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. assassinated as he stood in solidarity with striking sanitation workers in Memphis, Tennessee.

That's the question before you tonight. Not, "If I stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to my job. Not, "If I stop to help the sanitation workers what will happen to all of the hours that I usually spend in my office every day and every week as a pastor?" The question is not, "If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?" The question is, "If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?" That's the question.

- Martin Luther King Jr., "I've Been to the Mountaintop," April 3, 1968

Did You Know? US Gov’t Found Guilty In Conspiracy To Assassinate Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Though the United States government has wrapped Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s legacy in the American flag, waving his words to symbolize racial harmony and patriotic solidarity even as institutionalized White supremacy remains embedded in policies detrimental to the very Black community he tirelessly strived to uplift, very little is spoken of the fact that a Memphis jury found the United States government guilty of conspiring to assassinate Dr. King on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel on April 4, 1968.

After four weeks of testimony and over 70 witnesses in a civil trial in Memphis, Tennessee, twelve jurors reached a unanimous verdict on December 8, 1999 after about an hour of deliberations that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated as a result of a conspiracy. In a press statement held the following day in Atlanta, Mrs. Coretta Scott King welcomed the verdict, saying , “There is abundant evidence of a major high level conspiracy in the assassination of my husband, Martin Luther King, Jr. And the civil court's unanimous verdict has validated our belief."

https://newsone.com/2843790/did-you-know-us-govt-found-guilty-in-conspiracy-to-assassinate-dr-martin-luther-king-jr/

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Star! I'm back! Mainly because I cannot believe no one has claimed No. 20 with Rooster/reader for your "Write a Kiss" prompt!

Can't wait to see what you do, Star!

Jay! Yes! Seriously! I can't imagine why nobody else picked Roo's scars as prime places to kiss. Gosh do I want to. So without further ado, here is a fluffy sweet Kiss #20 for you. A Kiss on A Scar with Rooster.

A Kiss on a Scar

Rain splatters in fat droplets against the canvas over your head as you curl into your boyfriend's side. The both of you are completely bare, curled up in a pile of blankets, warm despite the cold temperatures outside your tent. You're camping high in the mountains of California, just you and Bradley, high up on a mountaintop where it feels like you're the only two people in the world.

When the radio forecasted rain, the two of you retreated to create heat between the sheets. In the liminal sleepy space after, you'd begun lazily comparing scars. Bradley has significantly more, and when you ask about your favorite, so you can kiss it again, he gives you the whole tale. How he had stolen his godfather's motorcycle right after his mother died and bit gravel shortly afterward.

"That's how I got the scars on my chin and cheek." Your heart aches for Bradley as you think of a teenage boy sitting in a hospital bed all alone with no family to rely on. "There's still gravel in it. The docs said the pieces were too small to remove. You can still feel them under the skin."

"Bradley…" His hands are gentle as you tug his arms even tighter around yourself. "You went through all of that alone?"

"Not alone, baby. Never alone." His sigh is soft and fond as you crawl into his lap. "Mav was there. He took me in after my mom died."

You're not sure what your face is doing, but it must be comical because Bradley's squishing your cheeks together and peppering kisses against your pouting lips before you can breathe.

"Bradley!" You're giggling even as you melt into his arms.

When your giggling tapers off, you're so close to Bradley that you can see every amber fleck in his dark chocolate eyes. His piercing gaze sends love and heat in equal parts ricocheting through your system. But instead of kissing his lips, you tip his head to the side and kiss the scars littering his cheeks.

"God, I love you, baby." His words make you shiver even as you finally capture his lips in a kiss that you pour your heart into. 

"Love you too, Bradley. Always."

Want to request a Kiss and a pair for me to write? Guidelines are here.

Want to see other Kisses I've written? Here's the full Masterlist.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[yearningaces]

I bet you thought this blog was gonna be about asexuality only... Heh

But the only barriers are the ones I've placed for myself and thematic gore falls into the category of 'allowed' and I've been thinking about Eldritch monsters falling in love with a fragile little human and expressing it in a very different way also this is unedited and I haven't read through it so have fun

Do you know how twisted the concept of love is per species? For humans it can be soft and warm and comforting, like a hearth in the home, warming your bones.

For a creature like Acherus, it's different.

Because Acherus doesn't even have a name produced by the human tongue. The creature simply heard themselves referred to as such one day and decided it was good enough.

But when they saw you creeping through their domain? They watched you from every shadow of every tree. Every animals eyes followed you with a glossy haze in their eye as if something was wrong. And it was one of the first signs of many that went unnoticed.

You fascinated the creature, now you must deal with the consequences.

For starters you were allowed to traverse their domain safely. Predators would either never reach you or drop dead the moment you were at risk. Trees and bushes would move out of your way as you went deeper into the heart of this domain. But they would try to block your way on the way out, as if not wanting you to leave.

When you would leave and return home, you brought with you famine. Wherever you went the entire area would die but only what was around you would prosper. The life draining from the land only to regrow wherever you were and only there as if to ensure only you had a steady supply of food.

The food from these events tasted like nothing. You'd take a bite and there wasn't even a texture, it would simply dissolve away in moments and leave you feeling full.

Animals began to avoid you. As if sensing something just a breath behind you at all times, they'd run. Even the trickiest fox and the smartest raven knew it was safer this way.

Except...

Deer.

Deer adored you, they would flock to you as if called for. When they followed you, they could be killed for a meal but the others would continue to stand there, walk past their deceased herd member, and follow you like happy children. Whitetail, fallow, originally just deer. But then you noticed a pattern. If you traveled to where the deer cannot go, or if they perished on the way, a group of elk would arrive when the weather was frozen. Otherwise moose, otherwise caribou. Then deer once more. They followed you without care of what would happen to them as if drawn in by some power and lure.

It only progressed. You could be in the middle of a harsh storm that should sweep you and your endless herd away. But the rain and the wind always avoided you, as if there was a shield that couldn't be seen or felt always right there around you. Not even a stray drop landed on your skin.

You could go to the water, dive into it and you could feel your very body morphing to accommodate. The feeling of your neck being split open multiple times and connecting those slots to your lungs where salt water could pour in was horrific. But you could breathe underwater with a new pair of gills.

The moment you were dry they were gone.

You could go to the coldest mountaintop, watch your fingers and toes rot off one by one in the freezing temperatures, feel the flesh decay and fall off of your bones, and it would simply regrow.

You could throw yourself into fire and feel the flames eating you alive but as quickly as you burned away your parts grew back as if replaced and the continuous cycle of flesh and viscera turning to ash and new growth taking its place endlessly would continue.

By this point the worst began to occur. The fact that sealed the fates of all. Your own kind began to reject you. After seeing these horrifying feats one village after another would cast you out, some trying to kill you in the process but every time their own weapons would horrifically turn against them. The hunter who's arrow was hit by a burst of wind and was turned around to land through his soft eye and into his brain. The group of soldiers moments away from striking you dead who went mad, screaming in fear and tearing each other apart. It never ended well.

And one day, you sat down in an empty field. Sitting with your herd of listless deer and one elk from the last group, and you cried.

It was a justifiable response, of course. You had been through so much unexplained heartache that even if it aided you, horrified your fellow man and led to you being shunned.

But you should have paid attention to what happened as you cried. The deer grew anxious. Pacing back and fourth in a way they've never reacted before.

There is a low hum in the air and mother nature holds her breath as you cry softly and quietly. Quiet enough you can hear a voice call out and look up.

One of the Deer is staring at you. It steps closer. It's mouth moving in an unnatural way, leaving the creatures jaw trembling. "Why do you cry?" It ask in a voice that sounds like what falling mountains sounds like. The deers eyes are milky white.

You stare at the deer for a good time before realizing it's unblinking stare remains and you have to respond. "I feel alone and abandoned by my own kind. I am afraid of these things that have been happening around me, I don't know what to do."

The deer stagnates. Its heart races faster and faster as if taking a great strain and effort while the voice returns from the deers trembling mouth. "You are unhappy with your gifts? You are alone?" The deer stops talking, its head dropping lower as if exhausted but it's eyes remain lifeless and you wonder if it was ever alive at all. It speaks again. "Your kind slander you. They hurt you. I will ensure they never do so again." *With that final word the deer drops to the ground, cold and stiff. You look to the rest of the listless herd wondering if they're the same way. Moments from death if not living corpses at this point.

You try to ignore the horrific sight and find camp for the night. Sleep is fitful and difficult but it does find you eventually.

And your dreams are the dreams of a madman. Trees of pulsating flesh surround you in a forest as the ground beneath you beats like a heart, featherless birds fly with listless and lifeless eyes, humans that pass by pass by on all fours and just look... Exaggerated in limbs. Then the scene speeds up. The creatures around you run away quicker and quicker darkness has arrived it fills your vision as a wall of shadow taller than mountains approaches you should run you should run before it's too late-

But it's been too late for a long time now.

The darkness consumes you and it is silent.

And you wake.

And the sky is red. You look to where the sun is to see it flickering like a candle flame about to be blown out.

You see something next to it in the sky, reveal itself. It looks like the moon. Then it moves. It looks down at you. And blinks.

And the sun goes out.

Darkness consumes everything instantly. Your world is doomed but you can see distant lights of villages making fires to panic and try to do something.

You approach wondering why they're so scared of the dark when we must all grow accustomed to it now. But then you see it.

One person's torch extinguished and they didn't have time to let out a cry for help before the darkness enveloped them, consuming them and leaving nothing but a burnt torch behind.

But then why could you traverse the dark?

You didn't think it safe to try again and you remained with the light of the villages.

This only made things escalate. For your sake, it was every other village first, consumed by madness and darkness until it was your small group left. And someone slipped up. They dropped their lantern onto a dried pile of hay, the fire caught quickly and spread, forcing everyone from the barn into the dark of the outside again. Your deer nowhere to be found but you still felt watched the moment you were outside.

And a bright red like appeared in the sky.

And an impossible amount of hands reached through it to force it open. What came out would be remembered as the devourer of worlds. It's eye the size of the moon, it's taloned hands the size of countries. But it still saw you.

It moved closer, the fang filled muzzle lowering through the clouds of the dark endless night sky and directly over you. It's maw was large enough to bite your entire village as if it were a crumb. But it found you still.

One by one those around you began screaming, foaming at the mouth, running in circles until their hearts gave out, bashing their heads against the ground until their brains splattered against the dirt.

But you were safe?

The bodies absorbed into the ground as if water. And a massive paw reached out, grasping the earth you were standing on. Lifting the entire forest in it's hand with you in the center of a ruined village but it had you now.

You couldn't take in this beings appearance entirely but the antlers were definitive. Everything else seemed to morph endlessly. The being lifted you up through your planets atmosphere and you felt like your lungs were shriveling. The being let out a low sound that made your head hurt but it seemed saddened. You gripped your throat, watching it raise it's other hand and dig it's claws into its form without blinking. You watched the blood of this creature spill as it tore open it's chest, flinging viscera out of the way before gingerly lifting you from its palm and placing you inside. As soon as you were in the creatures form you didn't need to breathe and as such relief was palpable. You could only watch as the creatures body sewed itself back together... Much like how your body did recently.

For now exaustion gripped you and dragged you to lay in the soft sinewy flesh of the creature and to rest. It was warm, it was as safe as you could be as your planet was now dead and you had no where to go.

One of these days you'd find your words and scold this being for all it's worth. But until then you listen to a strange thumping rhythm deciding it must be the beings heart and unwillingly you fall asleep.

For who knows how long.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[T]he Jericho road is a dangerous road. I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented a car and drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got on that road, I said to my wife, "I can see why Jesus used this as the setting for his parable." It's a winding, meandering road. It's really conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem, which is about 1200 miles—or rather 1200 feet above sea level. And by the time you get down to Jericho, fifteen or twenty minutes later, you're about 2200 feet below sea level. That's a dangerous road. In the days of Jesus it came to be known as the "Bloody Pass." And you know, it's possible that the priest and the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or it's possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking. And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to seize them over there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure. And so the first question that the priest asked—the first question that the Levite asked was, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" That's the question before you tonight. Not, "If I stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to my job. Not, "If I stop to help the sanitation workers what will happen to all of the hours that I usually spend in my office every day and every week as a pastor?" The question is not, "If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?" The question is, "If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?" That's the question. Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation. And I want to thank God, once more, for allowing me to be here with you.

—Martin Luther King Jr, "I've Been to the Mountaintop" speech delivered at the Mason Temple (Church of God in Christ Headquarters), Memphis, Tennessee, Apr 3, 1968

[Robert Scott Horton]