#Mag Face Recognition

[fionayao2008]

Tripod Turnstile Overview Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern-day control devices for pedestrian flows. They are utilized in places where the entrance as well as leave of people require to be controlled, such as clever communities, canteens, resorts, galleries, gyms, clubs, subways, terminals, docks, and so on area. Using Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile can make the flow of individuals orderly. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, Flap Turnstile are made use of in combination with smart cards, finger prints, barcodes as well as other identification system tools to develop an intelligent accessibility control network control system; they are used in combination with computers, access control, attendance, charging administration, ticket systems and other software program to create a The intelligent Turnstile Gate thorough management system can realize functions such as access control, presence, consumption, ticketing, and also current restricting. This Turnstile Gate management system belongs to the "all-in-one card" as well as is set up at flows such as areas, manufacturing facilities, clever buildings, canteens, etc. It can complete numerous management functions such as worker card travel control, presence at get off job and also meals, as well as dining. Tripod Turnstile system functions Convenient and rapid: check out the card in and out with one swipe. Utilize the licensed IC card and wave it before the smart Tripod Turnstile visitor to finish the Tripod Turnstile gate opening as well as charge recording job. The card reading is non-directional as well as the reading and also composing time is 0.1 secs, which is rapid and also practical. Safety and discretion: Use background or regional verification, accredited issuance, and unique identity, that is, the card can only be utilized in this system, and also it is personal as well as secure. Reliability: Card superhigh frequency induction, steady and also trustworthy, with the capacity to court as well as assume. Versatility: The system can flexibly establish entrance and exit control workers approvals, time period control, cardholder validity and also blacklist loss coverage, adding cards as well as various other functions. Versatility: Through authorization, the user card can be utilized for "one-card" monitoring such as car parking, presence, gain access to control, patrol, usage, and so on, making it easy to recognize multiple uses one card. Simplicity: Easy to mount, easy to connect, the software has a Chinese interface and is easy to run. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern control tools for pedestrian flows. The use of Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and Flap Turnstile can make the flow of individuals orderly. Utilize the licensed IC card as well as wave it in front of the smart Tripod Turnstile viewers to finish the Tripod Turnstile gate opening and also cost recording job.

[eddie4bat-president]

Thinking about post break-up steddie where Eddie left Hawkins to try and make it with his band.

Steve is in a bigger city - visiting Robin? Looking at apartments? Going to a gay bar or a queer book store or something? Sure, yeah, one of those. What matters is that there's a guy handing him a business card, asking if he's ever modeled before. The guy is name dropping gay magazines. The kinds Eddie had to pull from under his mattress to show Steve. The kind of magazine that ended on the floor when Eddie and Steve got more interested in each other than the pages. [See this Honcho archive for magazine reference 👀 Xxx]

(After: Eddie is picking up clothes off the floor, Steve poses seductively on the bed, swinging his bent knee back and forth slowly. "You think I'm hot enough to be one of those guys?" Eddie looks up. "One of them?", he swings the t-shirt in his hand over his shoulder so his hands are free to frame Steve on the bed, squinting an eye and turning his head this way and that. "Baby, you'd be the guy on the cover! You'd be the centerfold." He gets down on the bed and knee walks his way to straddling Steve. "You'd be the reason for a second print. You'd be the reason the pages stick together-" He mimes jerking off over Steve's face, who laughs and slaps his hand away-)

Anyway that's where Steve recognizes the name of the magazine from (maybe the guy waited for that look of recognition before actually handing his business card over lol) and he- accepts it without really thinking about it.

But then he starts thinking about it. And keeps thinking about it.

Eddie wants to pretend their relationship never happened? Wants to forget everything he left behind in Hawkins? Well, fuck him. He's going to remember what he left behind. Who he left. Let him see what he's missing.

Which is how Steve becomes a gay adult model out of spite.

I don't know how Steve making a list of gay porn mags and trying to model for each and every one of them gets them back together but it does and they live happily ever after lol. At some point.

[ratridingaskateboard]

Always See Your Face

Chapter Two

Link to Chapter One here

Summary: Eddie is beginning to find solace in an unfamiliar face.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, mentions of drugs, Y/N is described!

Tag list: @daisyridleyyyy @silky-luxe @bl00d-puppy @ttsbaby01 @kennedy-brooke @sadbitchfangirl @abzzz3 @josephquinnschesthair @aislinnclifton

A/N: OMG I was not expecting the amount of feedback I got from Chapter 1 thank you so so much!! Like in Chapter 1, different character perspectives will be marked with: --. I know y'all will like this chapter since Eddie's pov is in it :)

--

The days have seemed to be dragging out longer these past weeks for Eddie. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t jerk off, couldn’t play his guitar. Even the campaign had several hiccups because he couldn’t focus. He would think about possible reasons for this feeling: repeating senior year, not having a girlfriend, and not being able to secure a job. Out of all the reasons he had conjured in his head he seemed to find that the best definition for this feeling was loneliness. His parents were not in the picture and his uncle Wayne wasn’t exactly the best company. Don’t get him wrong he was a great guy and a better man than Eddie’s father ever was but Eddie wouldn’t consider him close to Wayne by any means.

‘86 was supposed to be Eddie’s year and he had begun to lose hope. 

Today was no different than any other day. Eddie had found himself stuck in trying to figure out tricks for his Hellfire campaign that would be able to mess up friends. His mind still couldn’t focus and he noticed himself repeating familiar tactics that he had done in the past. He rubbed his palms against his face, trying to drown out the laughter and conversation of his friends around him. 

“You okay, Eddie?” Dustin asked.

Suddenly, there was silence. Eddie placed his hands down and looked over at Dustin until a voice rang out.

“Hey, I know you showed me around and I might be asking for too much but is it alright if I sit with you?”

It was such a sweet voice. Not an inkling of insincerity, pity, or ill intent. It seemed so warm. He had been wanting to hear a voice like that for a long time. 

He looked up to see her. Was he in a dream? Had he been looking at that picture of Demi Moore in the swimsuit he had cut out and pasted in his makeshift porn mag for too long? She looked so similar to her yet she adorned the clothes Eddie would wear except for the skirt, of course. Her hair was a dark brown, long and straight which went down to her mid-back. Her bangs were whispy and thinner than many of the other girls who had teased theirs beyond recognition. Her big brown eyes stared so kindly at Dustin as if she was seeing an old friend again. 

Eddie went stiff. His friends around him looked to her then back at Eddie then back at her. They were amazed to see their lord and savior Eddie Munson be so frigid around a girl. Normally, he was as boisterous as usual with a touch of chivalry for the ladies. But he was never noticeably nervous like he was now. 

Eddie wondered to himself; Was some divine being sending him this girl so he could get through his last senior year? Was she an angel? He needed to take advantage of her sitting at their table before she left. This could be his only chance to speak to his dream girl.

She had looked over at Eddie and he gulped. Her lips were so plump and red they were practically begging him to kiss her. Stop it, Eddie! Fuck, He needed to get laid. She seemed to be analyzing his face and he let her. He would let her do anything as long as he got to keep staring at those eyes. Her eyes quickly shifted over to Mike once he entered the table. He felt his body relax once her gaze had changed.

"Jesus, that line was long!"

Mike's exclamation had broken the silence and Hellfire erupted into an uproar of questions.

"What's your name?"

"So where are you from originally?"

"How are you liking it here?"

"Are you single?"

Eddie was silent, watching her like a hawk to see what information his friends could attain from her. But she didn't answer any of the questions, she just started to laugh.

"I'm sorry! I laugh when I'm overwhelmed." She smiled. "All of you are so sweet for wondering about me."

Well, Eddie wasn't expecting that response but he had a feeling she would continue to surprise him. Dustin's once bewildered face began to soften as everyone spoke. He still seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet but at ease nonetheless. Eddie could tell he was plotting something since Dustin was not one to stay silent at the lunch table.

"Oh!" Gareth seemed to remember something as he reached into his bag. He pulled out a Geometry textbook and began to flip through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Do any of you guys- Oh, sorry, I mean guys and lady- understand how to do this? I can't figure any of this out and if I fail another test, I'll fail the class."

"Hey man, I don't know anything about Geometry. I barely passed Geometry when I took it."

"Yeah dude, no one at this table would be the right person to ask."

"Can I see?"

Gareth stared wide-eyed at Y/N as she began to walk over to him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the question. Eddie had sat right beside Gareth and he couldn't be happier with their current seating arrangements.

She was so close to Gareth and he could tell that Gareth had stopped breathing the second he felt her warmth. They could both smell her; She smelled like clove cigarettes and vanilla. Suddenly, Eddie started to care about Geometry.

"Alright, lemme see here..." She leaned further into Gareth, her breasts accidentally touching his shoulder. Gareth's face began to turn bright red. Eddie swiftly moved the book over to his side of the table.

"Oh Gareth, this is super easy!" Eddie exclaimed. "All you have to do is- uh... umm..." Eddie flipped through the pages trying to understand the math his mind was beginning to read as a foreign language. His friends began to laugh at his confusion.

She put her hand on Eddie's shoulder and he felt a bolt of lightning crawl down his spine.

"Hey, you guys didn't know how to do it either." She scolded. Eddie's hands still rested on the book and she put one of her hands over his left hand. Her other hand she used to flip through the pages.

Eddie had to stop every muscle in his body from kissing her at that moment. He barely knew this girl, yet, he felt as if she was doing these things to get a rise out of him. Whether innocent or guilty of this, it was working. He imagined turning her face with his hand on her chin to face him. Tucking the piece of hair out of her face and feeling the softness of her lips. What did she taste like? Vanilla like her perfume? Clove like her cigarettes? Whatever it was he wanted to taste her, every inch of her.

He silently adjusted himself in his pants, trying to make sure no one had noticed. Thankfully, no one had. Eddie's presence had been upstaged by the girl, bending over the table to look at Gareth's Geometry book.

"Fuck baby, why don't you tutor me after school?"

A football player's voice rang out as he passed behind her. Before Eddie had the chance to get up and teach this douchebag a lesson, he heard a loud thud behind him. He turned to see her standing above said football player, Eddie couldn't give two shits about remembering the guy's name, her knuckles bruised and a red imprint forming on his face.

"What the fuck, bitch!"

She surprised him again.

--

A/N: sorry this was kinda short but I felt like this was a good place to end. Please lemme know if you have any suggestions and I will keep you guys updated on new chapters :)

[odestasocean]

may i present to you, a rant that no one asked for about the bond between annie cresta & mrs. everdeen:

so awhile ago i had sent in an ask to @the-sun-and-the-sea talking about the implied friendship that forms between annie & mrs. everdeen post-war. now that i'm no longer just a lurker on here, i wanted to delve into my thoughts on this friendship because it is one that is sooo interesting to me and one that is hardly brought up in the fandom !!

to start, mrs. everdeen is a character that i wholeheartedly believe does not get the recognition she deserves. i mean, she leaves nearly everything about the only life she had ever known to start a new life with the man she fell in love with and have two children with him only for him to die tragically, leaving her with these two young girls who need her more than anything, but her own mind becomes a prison, keeping her locked away from being the mother that katniss and prim need her to be??? or idk maybe i just have a knack for loving the grieving widowed characters in media for some reason. anyway, i digress. her story, in a way, goes hand in hand with annie's story.

now, as we know, suzanne collins' mind is an incredibly intricate and complex place so i don't think that her specifically choosing district four to be where mrs. everdeen ends up was a coincidence. which just alludes to the fact that she has now become this personified cautionary tale for annie. since she's a doctor and she's familiar with the victors by being an extension of katniss, i'm just going to assume that she was one of finnick's doctors when he was in and out of the hospital. and that she became annie's doctor after she was rescued from the capitol. i'm also just going to go ahead and assume that if this was the case, she would've remained as annie's doctor once she found out she was pregnant. this could very well be implied to have contributed to her moving to d4 and helping to build a hospital there.

annie's story is honestly just as equally familiar and unfamiliar to us as mrs. everdeen's is. we don't know how her and finnick's relationship began or what the details of her games are or what her personality was like before her games or how she grieved after finnick was gone. but with this implication of mrs. everdeen moving to annie's home district, i can only imagine that she offered a great deal of support to her. mrs. everdeen met this woman who had just endured something so insanely traumatic and was there to offer her help and witness her heal with the happiness of her new marriage, only for her to end up on the same exact path as she herself had been on for the past seven (??) years: a widowed mother with a mind who only ever seemed to experience grief.

we don't know anything about what the weeks and months were like for annie after finnick's death. but to me, it is perfectly rational to view this as a period of time where she was so shut down from wanting help from anyone and everyone and felt entirely unsure of how she was going to raise a child in this state of mind. and it wasn't until she started to talk with mrs. everdeen, who had been enduring her own grief of losing her youngest daughter, that she found someone who finally understood. someone who didn't make her feel like she was crazy for being unwilling to do anything but lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. someone who didn't view her as the Mad Girl who was now the Pregnant Mad Girl Whose Husband is Dead, but rather as an incredibly strong individual who had to fight against the enemy of her own head. someone who offered her a shoulder to cry on rather than a judgemental stare. no one could replace prim for mrs. everdeen and no one could replace annie's mother or mags in annie's case. but after all of the hardships that they had both faced up until that point, they had a shared understanding of how they could never truly move on from their grief. but they would continue on and live their lives to the best of their abilities for themselves, their children, and those they had lost.

alas, the similarities do not end there, my friends. katniss constantly talks about how much her father loved being out in nature so the wicked sense of irony of him dying so far away from that nature he loved so much is just heartbreaking. and who else do we know of that died in a place so far underground and so far away from the element of nature that he had been surrounded by his whole life?? bing, bing, bing, you guessed it! finnick odair! there's one line toward the beginning of hunger games that has always stood out to me: "it reminds me of the mines and my father, trapped, unable to reach sunlight, buried forever in darkness." replace mines with sewer and my father with finnick and boom, you've got the exact events of page 312 in mockingjay. and, of course, i can't forget the obvious-- an explosion was involved in both of their deaths. so this again just adds to my point earlier of how it feels a little too eerily similar that these four characters all share some level of commonalities for it to have been a coincidence.

anyway, not really sure what the point of me rambling about all of this was. i guess to see if anyone else has ever put that much thought into it?? or am i just looking way too far into something that's not as connected as i think it is?? idk, let me know your thoughts if you have anything to add because i could talk about this forever and ever and ever !!!

[diiwata]

talk abt the bkg one to me PLEASE kt was the thing that drew me in to your fic

"the big one" -> my hc natural disaster of district 4!

aka: my interpretation of how district 4 got to rebel and finnick got reaped via a super big earthquake.

DISCLAIMER: hey gang, this is just MY hc and there are barely canon facts here, so don't go rambling in my inbox about how i'm wrong, please. this is all for funsies and to fill in the blanks of my fic b/c suzanne gave us quite the blank slate for d4! if you wanna add earthquakes into your own personal hcs and fics, feel free to! i don't own this hc, i think... well, i definitely don't own earthquakes!

index (hope you guys enjoy my titles):

THE FAULT (LINES) IN OUR STARS: some context for california's earthquakes

CAUGHT LACKING: "the big one" and the capitol's subpar response

THE LOVERS-TO-EXES ARC: district 4's break up with the capitol

A FINNICK-NOMENON: the 65th and 70th hunger games

anywho, thanks letting my ramble, anon. yay!!! now that ik you're reading crtfy, i'm soooo curious as to who you are, but i'll respect your decision to stay anonymous <3 as mr. worldwide says, dale!

THE FAULT (LINES) IN OUR STARS: some context for california's earthquakes

to start off, "the big one" is an actual phrase used to describe the major earthquakes in california that happen every 100-250 years according to experts. this is a state in the us that's filled with fault lines. however, little quakes show up every now and then. many people are quite unfazed by them since they're pretty small and don't disrupt every day life very often.

from here on out, i will refer to the big one as TBO to be quicker!

this video shows an earthquake from 1989. it had a magnitude of 6.9-7.2 and lasted 10-15 seconds (according to google). TBOs go up to 7.8 and above (again, according to google), so they pale in comparison to the devastation d4 experiences in my fic.

CAUGHT LACKING: "the big one" and the capitol's subpar response

i imagine TBO taking place -- in my fic, at least -- 2 years before finnick's games. in my fic, TBO happens a month or two before the games. during this, the career academy was finding eligible careers (avg age of 18) to volunteer for that year's reaping.

when TBO occurred, many buildings and homes were hit. among these was the career academy. the death toll would be pretty high, and i imagine only a few careers survived. a fire might've started as a result of broken wires and spilled oils. i don't want to make this more tragic than it already is (and yet i'm doing it), but earthquakes can also cause tsunamis... so... i dunno if you wanna add that into your own interpretations of d4, but there's that.

basically, this is REALLY tragic, right but what does the capitol ask in response?

"so... can y'all still fish, or--"

and of course they fish! they're scared of the consequences that they'll face. the capitol already sends the bare minimum of aid, a couple packages of food, and shoves cameras in their faces for their performative charity. what happens if they go against the capitol at their most vulnerable?

furthermore, aid only went to the merchant class and those who only lived by the fisheries. poor urban areas barely get any recognition, so they suffered the most from TBO.

THE LOVERS-TO-EXES ARC: district 4's break-up with the capitol

their treatment from the capitol is a reason they get disillusioned by them and why they are one of the first to rebel. at their weakest, the capitol only cared about whether or not production continued.

just like the other career districts, i believe district four was as heavily propagandized as one and two. just because they produced the "nice" victors like mags, finnick, and annie doesn't mean that they didn't train as hard or fight as roughly! as @anniecrest4 said in this post (hope you don't mind the tag, i simply love this post), people want their children to live! everyone is desperate and you can't blame them!

a betrayal as big as district four's, a career district, can only be caused by a bigger betrayal from the capitol.

the careers, i believe, also had a change of heart. the surviving ones didn't volunteer because they've seen so. much. death. peers? dead. family? dead. loved ones? dead. them? well, they sure hope not! not any time soon. so, they don't volunteer. TBO showed that nothing in life is guaranteed. your life, especially in panem, is not guaranteed. and sure, they feel selfish. the district probably thinks they're selfish, too. but can't they'd rather be that than selfless and dead. just this once they don't sacrifice their time and effort to join the fight to an early grave.

so d4 became a laughingstock of the career districts when they sent their first reaped kids (in a while) to the arena. their reputation in the capitol plummeted within a span of two years. that was until finnick was reaped, of course.

A FINNICKNINOMINON: the 65th and the 70th hunger games

obviously, i just set up the entire reason finnick was reaped, but i also believe that he was a career-in-training! this would explain how he was able to win the games: through basic training. of course, he got extra help from the trident, but i think his performance gave d4 the incentive to return the career training.

they saw his potential. their hope for a better turn-out for their district was high with finnick. he must've understood the trust they put in him, and he surely would've felt the pressure. if he won the games, the capitol would pay attention to their cries for help.

and if they kept winning, then maybe, they can finally have some semblance of their livelihoods back.

so, slowly but surely, they tried to get the career academy back up and running, but with a different intent: to train kids for when they get reaped OR for older kids to volunteer and save the younger kids from getting reaped. they don't want the weak and vulnerable to be punched down further anymore. volunteers will die with honor. not for the capitol, but for their district.

enter annamarie cresta in the 70th hunger games: the first female career since "the big one".

aaaand that's it! i hope you enjoy. sorry if this is longer than you thought it'd be, but this hc has several layers to it and i wanted to cover all bases. lmk what you think!

[shizucheese]

Hey y'all, new chapter of A Lovely Pair of Eyes is finally out! Sorry it took so long, I ended up being a big of a perfectionist with it and it gave me some troubles. But it's here now so read on! :D You can find the new chapter on AO3 here: Chapter 1

If you're new to the story and want to start from the beginning, you can check it out here: Prolog

Fic description: John and Martin survived the events of Mag 200 and ended up Somewhere Else, but now Martin has become an Avatar of the Eye. Now the two of them must navigate all of the complications of their still-new relationship now that they don't have a fear apocalypse distracting them, AND being in a relationship where both people involved are Eye Avatars, AND Martin's struggles as a baby Eye Avatar.

This story isn't going to have a cohesive plot so much as this is where I'm posting all of my stories set in a post-Mag200 continuity where John and Martin are Eye Avatar boyfriends together. Chapter description: Martin Wakes up. Full chapter can also be found under the cut.

Chapter 1

It took Martin a moment to realize where he was when he came to. But as his senses came back to him, he recognized the antiseptic smell and beeping sounds of a hospital room. He had spent enough time by John’s side when he was in his coma, how could he not?

At the thought of John, his memories flooded back to him. The Panopticon. The plan to kill Elias…Jonah…whatever…and release the Fears into other worlds. And John going ahead and killing him himself and becoming the new Pupil of the Eye, and then the horrifying realization that he couldn’t control it.

The knife.

The promise. The kiss. John. Oh God John.

Fear and worry spiked through him and he was distantly aware of the sound of the heart monitor in the room beeping faster. He tried to sit up, but found that he was too weak to do so, and the most he could manage was a weak moan and a flex of his fingers.

It was then he became aware of the hand that was holding one of his; long, cool, familiar fingers intertwined with his own. He rolled his head to the side and sure enough he saw a familiar head of black hair, streaked with grey. He seemed to be asleep, slumped over the bed with his head pillowed on one arm, but he was here, and he was safe.

“John…?” His voice came out weak and raspy and he coughed from the effort of it. He wiggled his fingers in a weak attempt at grasping at John’s hand.

John jolted awake, and Martin watched as one emotion after another flashed across his face as he blinked rapidly. Confusion, recognition, realization….

“Martin.” He said it as a complete sentence. This was Martin. He was Martin. Martin was here.

“John” Martin answered back.

“Oh God Martin!” John stood up and leaned over, cupping Martin’s face with both hands and examining him, as if searching for something, before stepping away. “I’m uh…I need to go tell the doctor you’re awake…” John backed away, his gaze never leaving Martin’s face, until finally he had no choice but to turn around and leave the room.

-

“Well, Mr. Blackwood, I’m happy to say that, all things considered, you’re in remarkably good shape. We’d like to keep you here for a few more days for observation but if all seems well, I see no reason why we would need to keep you longer than that,” the doctor said as he finished his examination. Somehow John had convinced the man to let him stay in the room during the whole thing and now he stood fretting in the corner.

“Now, I just need to ask you a few questions as part of the evaluation. Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Well, he most certainly couldn’t tell the truth about that, now, could he? He doubted the doctor would believe him; it was more likely he’d think he was completely crazy and would try to have him committed.

“J-John.” Martin’s voice was still raspy from months of disuse, although the longer he was awake, the stronger he felt. “I was with John. Th-there was an accident….” he trailed off, not sure what else to say. The doctor nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard.

“I don’t expect you to know the exact date, of course, but could you tell me what year it is?”

“2010.” The doctor nodded again and continued to write on his clipboard.

“And could you tell me who the current monarch of England is?” “Queen Elizabeth.” The doctor added a few more notes on his clipboard, and then stood up from where he had been sitting by the side of the bed.

“Well, that should be all for now. When you’re feeling a bit more recovered, we’ll go over your treatment and rehabilitation plan. Let a nurse know if you have any questions or if anything about your condition changes.” And with that, the doctor left the room, giving John a nod of acknowledgement as he passed him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, John was across the room and by the side of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Martin could practically physically feel John’s eyes roaming over his face again. He took a moment to take John in himself, now that they were alone and had a moment. John was pale even in the best of times, and Martin would have thought, after four months of living in a world not in the middle of a fear apocalypse, that’s how John would look, but instead he was the same haggard kind of pale that Martin had grown used to seeing over the past few years, with the same bruise-like circles under his eyes. Martin wondered how well John had been taking care of himself while he had been in his coma. “Fine? You were there while the doctor was looking me over and asking me all those questions…”

“Yes, but you and I both know there are things that we can talk about between us that we can’t talk about to or around other people.” “Fair enough.” Martin closed his eyes and took a moment before answering. “I’m still a bit thirsty.” At that, John reached over for the cup of ice water a nurse had brought him earlier and held the straw up to Martin’s lips, and he drank from it gratefully. “I’m still tired, too. You would think after four months in a coma I wouldn’t be. Is that normal? And my head hurts…” “You should get some rest then.” “Tell me what happened first.” “We can talk about that later. You need to rest.” “John, I’m not going to be able to rest properly until I know what’s going on. Just…please, tell me.” “Right then…” John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “When we released the Fears into the other worlds, it seems they took us with them, and we ended up here. The land where the Institute and the Panopticon were is a construction site in this world. That’s where we wound up…” John’s mouth quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I told the paramedics and the police officers that you and I had wanted to take advantage of the construction do some urban exploration in the old Millbank Prison tunnels. There was an accident and we both fell. You wouldn’t wake up….” The smile fell. His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s not your fault. You were…” John trailed off and stared into the middle distance, his sentence left incomplete.

“So what are we going to do about like…our identities? We’re not from here so…wait, is there, like, another us here? Like the us from this world…? We aren’t using their IDs, are we?” John laughed ruefully at that.

“No, we’re not using their IDs. Let’s just say we weren’t the only ones who made it here.” “Who…?” It took a moment before Martin caught on. “Annabelle.” “Precisely. It seems the Web doesn’t like being indebted, particularly not to agents of one of the other fears. Her helping us is supposed to ‘balance the ledger,’ or so she says.”

“Right…and what are the chances that she’s going to balance it a little too much and we’ll end up being the ones indebted to her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Getting someone to owe you can be a form of manipulation…” They were both quiet for a moment as they considered the implications of the situation they found themselves in. “What else?” Martin asked, finally breaking the silence. John looked up at him in surprise. “What else is there? What aren’t you telling me?” “I don’t…”

“John, please. I can tell when you’re hiding something from me. Please, just tell me.” The pain that had been pulsing behind his eyes since he woke up grew stronger. John closed his eyes, and his posture, which Martin had only ever seen him lose at the worst of times, slumped.

“You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” “Noticed what?”

“Martin…when the doctor asked you what year it was, you told him 2010. I never told you what year it was in this world.” “What…? Of course you did. You…” “No, Martin, I didn’t.” John’s face was full of…sorrow? Guilt? “Then I…I must have seen it on the—” Martin trailed off as he realized there was no calendar in sight. “Without your glasses? Although it appears you no longer need them...” Martin unconsciously reached a hand up to the side of his face, as if to adjust the glasses that, yes, he realized now, were not there. And yet…

“John, what’s going on?” And there was that pain again, flaring up as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening to him. “When you were in your coma, you didn’t have a heartbeat.”  John paused, and swallowed. “I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you…” His voice cracked. “The only reason you weren’t pronounced dead is because Annabelle did…something and the doctors realized you still had brain activity. You were like that for four months…”

John looked at him straight in the eye, then, and…yes, there was sorrow and guilt and grief and pity in those eyes. “I’m so sorry, Martin. You’re like me now. You’ve become an Avatar of the Eye.”

[baronmpontmercy]

14 or 36 for whomever suits :3 ??

36 …to give up control (~700 words)

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

Amadeus is trained. Disciplined. He has dedicated hours, weeks, years of his life to schooling every sinew, drilling every muscle in his body to be strong, precise, and powerful. And controlled. Amadeus will not let himself lose control, he can’t.

In his mind's eye he still sees Quil's sweet face, torn near beyond recognition, eyes glassy in death, her scales dulled with thick drying blood. In his ear he still hears a voice, sometimes with Fel's sicklysweet sycophantic rasp and sometimes the cutglass cold of his own, urging him to rip out Isobel Thorm's throat with his bare hands.

Amadeus will not let himself lose control. For the sake of his friends, his loved ones. He must stay controlled. And so he drills himself, again and again, loses himself in discipline and rigour. Control, always control. He’s loath to admit it, but it’s exhausting. But the fear of what he could do if he lets his control slip, even for a heartbeat, it’s enough to keep him in line.

As Wyll's practice rapier clatters against Amadeus' own sparring sword one evening, he thinks this. As he sees the shining, breathless joy on Wyll's face at each lunge and parry, the bright mix of concentration, determination, and thrill in his eyes, he thinks this. And Amadeus' heart swells. 

After dinner, most of them have laid their weapons aside to make the most of the evening. Mags plays through a reel or two, Shadowheart prays, Lae’zel whets her sword, Karlach and Gale chat by the fire. And Amadeus’ heart aches. 

He picks up Phalar Aluve and Cruel Sting, sequesters himself away, and drills. Goes over and over til each step is sure, each swing will hit true. His arms begin to ache. His swings become clumsy. He raises his eyes to where Selûne has begun to make her ascent across the sky, implores the Moonmaiden to grant him just that bit more strength, just enough to- His chest heaves with effort, he stumbles, loses his footing, turns himself haphazardly around; no divine strength seems to touch him. 

The warmth of a living hand does, firm yet gentle on his arm. He turns and Wyll is before him, cast in soft silver, Selûne framed between his horns. 

“Come away,” he says, “you’ll be no use to anyone spent.”

“I must-”

Protect you. Save you. Stop myself. Save myself. Stay in control. Always control.

“Perhaps you must. But come the morn.”

The moon, crowning Wyll, glimmers. Amadeus acquiesces, lays the swords aside.

 His hands, now empty, feel weak and useless, clumsy and lumbering. Pick up your swords again, lest your control slip through your worthless fingers like oil. Wyll takes them, (trembling, from exertion, from fear, from guilt) and draws him in. Something changes. Amadeus wraps his arms around him, and finds when his hands arc around Wyll’s back that he longs to cling to him, nails and fingers clutching purchase but not to tear now, not to rip. To hold, be held, be held. 

You must keep control, says the voice in his ear, warningly. Control, always control.

He lets himself be held. Lets his strength melt into Wyll’s. When Wyll’s lips find his, Amadeus breathes him in like a drowning man who at last has broken the water’s surface; his shuddering lungs calm. Amadeus kisses him, revels in the sweet taste of him, his taught limbs soften. Each gentle press of lips, each soft sigh ghosted featherlight over tender skin, all unravel the tension twined around his muscles. 

They part for air, and Amadeus buries his head in Wyll’s shoulder. He hears the delicate smile in Wyll’s voice, feels the rumble of his fond chuckle,

“Let’s call it a night, my heart.”

“Another moment here. Please,” Amadeus’ voice is muffled, words buried in the column of neck under his mouth; he is loath to lift his head. A hand comes up to cradle the back of his skull, fingers weaving through bone-white hair. Wyll’s cheek rests atop his. 

Amadeus will not let himself lose control, yet Amadeus relinquishes control. He realises he is not out of control, quite the opposite. There is, he can see, can feel, a difference between those antipodean states. 

A surrendering. Wyll kisses his forehead. 

A partaking. Wyll kisses his cheek. 

Trust. Wyll returns to his lips. 

Willingly given, willingly shared. Amadeus kisses him back. 

Selûne crowns them both.

[bluemidnightmelody]

lover/fighter - my favorite moments

[Little snippets from my Finnick/OC longfic that are stuck in my head]

From Chapter 44 - Neptune in 4th house

Finnick leans against the old wooden desk in the small improvised office and watches her as she purposefully stows all kinds of things in the designated place. "Isn't that too much for you sometimes? After you keep starting arguments with Donna because of me, so that I can get some peace and quiet at home, all you ever do yourself is work," he replies.

Rhea pauses and looks at him. "Those are two things you can't compare," she says seriously. "I love my work. I don't do it because someone else tells me to or because I have to. I never wanted anything other than this. This is where I grew up and taking care of the people around could never be too much."

It's exhausting and sometimes very draining but just as fulfilling for her. She could never imagine stopping. "We both know that you would also rather be at home looking after your people. If you could decide for yourself, you would never have come back here after your Games, would you? You'd be sitting at home in District 4 now, taking the boat out every day, going fishing with the boys, lying in the sun by the sea, eating dinner with Mags and Annie. You probably would have started working as a fisherman after all, like you wanted to, not because you had to, but because you are someone who gets bored easily when you have nothing to do. Maybe you could have become a teacher. I think at least that would really suit you, you're good at it and good with children."

"You think children should take me as an example? I think many at home would disagree," he replies with a smile, but there is a trace of sadness behind it. It's hard to listen to her talk about what his life could have been like, and he likes the picture she paints. Very much so and he has to realize that his comparison was really more than inappropriate.

"I think everyone should take an example from you," she replies seriously. "But we both know that what you do here in the Capitol is nothing but slave labor for Snow to get the most out of the Games. It's not work, it's exploitation, something completely different to my situation."

Not even the victors dare say that out loud, not here in the Capitol. Nevertheless, she simply says it as if it were the most natural thing of all, openly expressing her rejection of the president without a trace of fear. That alone calls for recognition, but in the same breath she is one of the few people who still sincerely believe in his respectable character even after the Capitol has distorted his image so much. He gets a warm tingle in his fingertips as his gaze rests on the floor.

When he looks up again, he has a gentle smile on his face that looks like it wants to become something more. But he doesn't say a word, he just looks at her with this unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" Rhea asks, a little flustered, her embarrassment rising to her head along with the heat. It's as if his eyes have some kind of magical power that allows him to do all sorts of things to you just by looking at you.

His smile widens a little. "Nothing," he then says casually, pauses for a few more seconds, then pushes himself off the edge of the desk and strolls leisurely back into the hallway.

Rhea can hear his footsteps as he descends the old wooden steps of the staircase, presses her hands against her cheeks and sighs. Why is this guy so intense? There's no other way to describe it, everything about him just seems too much to handle. She wonders if he's always like this by nature, or if it's also a bit intentional because he knows exactly what effect he has on others. Probably a mixture of both.

It's like a damn strong drink and when she's around him, she sometimes feels like she's in a daze. But because of the sweetness, you only notice the effect when it's too late and then you just want more and more. She's worried that she might do something foolish while she's under the influence or even end up becoming an alcoholic, so to speak.

She quickly returns to the task at hand to distract herself from these thoughts. Since she knows what's really going on in Finnick's life, that warm tingling feeling in her chest always leaves a tinge of guilt behind, because something in her subconscious says that it's taboo to feel these things, that he would reject having this kind of affection directed at him.

Links to all the chapters: lover/fighter - Chapter Index

fanfiction on ao3 and wattpad

[hazelwords]

So I have some thoughts on the celebrity casting choices for season 2 of The Bear. I haven’t seen many takes (what I have seen were general critiques), but I think I know why the creators had such big names on the show.

Seeing a familiar face triggers a specific part to our brain (don’t ask me which one, I’m not a brain scientist), and this happens whether we see an old classmate in CVS or a famous actor on a TV show. There’s a feeling of, “Oh, I know this person,” and, depending on the actor and your knowledge of the gossip mags, you will start remembering little details and facts about them.

Each character played by a famous person in season 2 was meant to be someone we “know.” Our brains were supposed to light up in recognition as a part of the storytelling.

From my memory (having just finished the season), the celebrity appearances are divided into two: chefs Carmy knew/worked with, and Carmy’s family. The chefs are big-name chefs, headliners and front-page people. So yes, we recognize Will Poulter and Olivia Colman from previous roles, but within the world of the show, we should recognize them. They are famous chefs!

Similarly, when we see Sarah Paulson, John Mulaney, Bob Odenkirk, Gillian Jacobs, and Jamie Lee Curtis, we get to see them through Carmy’s eyes: as familiar faces and voices, people we have seen before. We are immersed in the scene, not taken out of it, since we are surrounded by people we “know”.

That’s my theory, at least. All’s to say - I liked this season and didn’t mind the famous faces!

(The only time I felt “taken out” was when Rene Gube was on the scene! I was like, “Hey! That’s Rene Gube! He’s one of the producers and writers for the show! Man, why is Father Brah so cranky and mean right now?”)

[ashandkatiewrite]

Somewhere a Clock is Ticking | Chapter 10

FIC SYNOPSIS: This is not the way Maggie thought her life would go after the Blip. This was not the life she was meant to be living. The man in front of her, who had the same face as Bucky, was not her husband — he was his killer.

WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes/OFC

RATING: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)

The final installment of the Bucky Barnes/Maggie Hastings "What If...?" AU Series: Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

chapter preview…

Once they were in the street, Bucky felt panic rising in his throat, but tried to remain as calm as possible. “Mags,” he said, gripping her shoulders, “I think he’s more than he seems. I think—” he said as he looked up at one of the illuminated windows to see the silhouette of a person looking out. “I think I’m gonna regret not killing him. This isn’t over.”

There had been a flicker of recognition in Tommy Medrano’s eyes as Bucky gripped his throat. 

Bucky looked down at his left arm as he held onto Maggie‘s shoulders like she was the one holding him up. His metal arm was showing above the glove and below the sleeve of his ripped suit jacket. 

Tommy knew more than he appeared to know. 

TAGLIST: @acabecca • @arrthurpendragon • @cas-verse • @cjand10 • @darkwolf76 • @darylandbethfanforever9 • @eddysocs • @jewishbarbies • @ocappreciationtag • @sassysophiabush • @scarletwidoww • @seb-soph • @starcrossedjedis • @thatmagickjuju

[livesincerely]

take a shot (but how’s your aim?) ch. 7 - parting shots

Also on Ao3. Chapter six here.

00000

It’s an honest miracle that Jack finds his way to The World at all afterwards. All the self-righteous anger of before has dried up into dust, like clay left out to crack and crumble beneath the blistering, unforgiving sun.

He trudges along, heart and body aching in tandem. He’s distantly aware of the slap of his shoes against the pavement, the throngs of pedestrians around him, the lively bustle of the morning, but none of it manages to pierce the gloomy haze that’s settled around him. At least, until:

“—ack? Jack!”

Jack glances back over his shoulder, confused, at the sound of his name. Maggie waves at him, hitching her skirt up with her other hand as she trots to catch up to him⁠—she must be headed into work as well, but lost in thought, Jack had walked right past her.

“I thought I recognized those shoulders,” she exclaims as she approached. “I didn’t realize you were working in the office today⁠—” She stops herself with a gasp, blushing demurely. “Are those for me?” 

“What?” Jack says blankly. He follows the line of her gaze down to the bouquet of roses still hanging, limply, between his fingers. “Oh, yeah.”

“They’re beautiful,” Maggie says, taking the flowers and holding them close to her face to inhale the fragrance. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Jack says, forcing a smile. “‘M glad ya like them. I, uh…” He clears his throat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I actually got ‘em as an apology for everythin’ that went down the other day at lunch with the guys. I know I said it before, but it wasn’t right, how they treated ya. Wasn’t fair. And I wanted ya to know how sorry I am for lettin’ it happen.” 

“Jack,” she says, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“‘Cept for havin’ a bunch’a dirtbags for friends,” Jack scoffs.

“Except maybe for that,” Maggie agrees playfully, and she loops her arm through Jack’s own as they continue on their way, the flowers tucked inside her other elbow. “But they can’t possibly be jerks all of the time⁠—did you ever figure out what set them off so badly?”

“No one’s talkin’,” Jack huffs. “But I’m pretty sure it’s got somethin’ ta do with whatever’s goin’ on with Davey.”

“What’s going on with Davey?” Maggie asks.

“I don’t know!” Jack bursts out. “None of the fellas feel like sharing⁠—it’s some kinda secret that everyone’s keepin’ from me.”

“Which one was Davey, again?” Maggie wonders, brow furrowed. “Was he the one with the cigar? Or the redhead?”

“No, no, Davey’s the one that left halfway through lunch,” Jack corrects. “The tall one with the blue eyes. The nice one that kept tryin’ ta include ya.”

“Oh, David,” Maggie says, recognition sparking. “I never would’ve guessed anything was bothering him⁠—honestly, it seemed like he was the only one that wasn’t upset. He must be really good at hiding it.”

“Only if you don’t know what to look for,” Jack says. “Once you know his tells, it’s obvious that somethin’s wrong. He keeps sayin’ that he don’t wanna talk about it so I’m tryin’ not’ta stick my nose in his business but…” He lets out a long sigh. “I hate seein’ him so torn up. I wish there was somethin’ I could do to help him.”

“Are you sure there’s anything you can do?” Maggie tentatively offers.

“What’d’ya mean⁠— Of course there is!” Jack says, baffled at the suggestion. “I mean, there’s gotta be. I can’t jus’ do nothin’!”

“But if you don’t know what’s wrong,” Maggie points out. “And if he asked you to leave him be…” She trails off with a delicate shrug. “Sounds like the only thing you can do is let it go for now. Give him some space and be there for him if he needs you.

“He needs me now,” Jack insists. “You can tell it jus’ lookin’ at him—he’s miserable, Mags. He’s keepin’ everythin’ bottled up and it’s eatin’ him up inside.”

“You said some of your other friends are in the loop, right?” Maggie asks.

“Try, all of ‘em,” Jack mutters under his breath.

“So he isn’t going through this alone,” she continues. “He’s got other people to lean on.”

But Davey always leans on me, Jack can’t help but think, mulish, irritation frothing deep in his stomach. Why’s now gotta be any different?

“He’s my best friend,” he says instead, the words coming out sharper than he means them to. “I jus’ feel like I should be doin’ somethin’ more than sittin’ around, twiddlin’ my thumbs and waitin’ for things to fix themselves.”

“Something like what?” Maggie prompts gently, her blue eyes wide and earnest. 

“I dunno,” he says, starting to get frustrated. “Jus’... somethin’."

“I’m sure it’ll all work itself out with time,” she assures him, running a soothing hand over his arm; Jack’s skin prickles at the contact. “How long has this been going on?”

“I mean, I can’t know for sure,” Jack says, thinking back. “But the first time I noticed anythin’ was wrong was that day at Jacobi’s.”

Maggie’s expression visibly shifts, though she’s clearly doing her best to hide it. “So, it’s only been a week?”

“Eight days,” Jack protests. “I know it sounds like I’m makin’ somethin’ outta nothin’ but⁠—”

He remembers Davey’s eyes. Remembers Davey’s tears.

“—I jus’ want him to be okay,” he finishes quietly. 

“Jack,” Maggie says patiently. “He’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Jack says after another long exhale. “I hope so.”

00000

The rest of the day follows along the same rickety, worrisome tracks. His thoughts are in such a tangle that he doesn’t realize where his feet are carrying him until he’s standing outside of Davey’s building once again, the glare of the sun reflecting off his window calling to him like a beacon on the horizon.

Jack wants nothing more than to climb up and check on him, but a sudden ache between his lungs holds him back.

Would Davey even want to see him? Or is Jack just making things worse, showing up where he’s not needed?

Sighing, he scuffs the toe of his shoe against the pavement, then turns on his heel and starts heading back out to the main street. But he can’t help one last glance over his shoulder, and that’s when he sees it: Davey’s window sliding open, a leg swinging its way through, followed by a head of scruffy blonde hair. 

Something barbed and vicious twines its way around Jack’s chest as he watches Racetrack wave one last goodbye, then start picking his way down the creaking fire escape, whistling to himself as he goes.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Jack growls. 

Race stumbles as he jumps down into the alley—clearly Jack has caught him off guard—but he can’t even enjoy the wide-eyed, guilty look on his face. His blood is pounding in his ears, so hot and thick he can almost taste it.

“Enjoying the fresh air,” Race says snarks, recovering quickly. “What’d’ya think, dumbass?”

“You better not be messin’ with him, Race,” Jack warns. “‘Cause if I find out you’ve been pullin’ any of the shit you been pullin’ on me with Davey, I swear ta God I’m gonna—“

“Slow your roll, Jack,” Race interrupts glibly, tucking his thumbs into his pockets. Jack feels a vein in his forehead start to throb. “I ain’t done nothin’ ta Davey.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ playing around, Racetrack,” Jack says, stepping in close. “Leave him alone if you’re just gonna keep bein’ an asshole.”

“What are you, his knight in shining armor?” Racetrack questions with a scoff, but there’s something hiding behind his eyes, like a hand of cards he’s playing close to his chest. “Last I checked, Davey can speak for himself.”

“Been doin’ a lot of checkin’, have ya?” Jack snarls.

“So what if I am?” Race asks, with a knowing little smirk. “Gotta problem?”

“He wants space,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, from you, maybe,” Racetrack bites back.

It’s like the ground’s dropped out from underneath him.

“Is… Is that what he said?” Jack asks numbly, the words settling like a layer of chalk on his tongue, dry enough to choke on. “Did he say that he didn’t…?”

Racetrack hesitates, and that hurts too⁠—just as badly, but in a different kind of way—like another round of blows against an already bruised stretch of skin.

“Nah,” Race eventually says. “He didn’t say that.”

“Then, what—“

“It ain’t none of your fucking business,” Race says firmly. “If he wants ta tell ya about it, he will. But until then, maybe you should finally take the hint and back off.”

“An’, what, you’re the exception to the rule?” Jack wonders bitterly, shoulders sagging.

“Well, I am pretty damn exceptional,” Race says, lifting his chin.

“...You swear he’s okay?” Jack asks, a little desperately. “You swear you’re watchin’ his back?”

“You ain’t the only one that’s worried about him,” Race says, quiet and serious. “I’m helpin’ him as much as he’s lettin’ me.”

Jack rakes a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, defeated, turning to walk away. “Fine.”

“But, uh,” —Race just doesn’t know when to quit, doesn’t know when to let Jack slink off to lick his wounds⁠— “Since you’re here, there’s somethin’ else we should talk about.”

“What?” Jack asks, weary in a bone deep sort of way. “What else could you possibly want?”

For the first time, Race actually seems uncomfortable, shifting back and forth on his feet. “I gotta few things I need’ta say to Miss Margaret. I’m assumin’ you know of a way for me to get in touch with her?”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Jack explodes. “You really think I’m gonna let you stir up anymore shit with her?”

“Keep your voice down!” Race hisses, glancing up towards Davey’s building. “If Davey catches us out here screamin’ at each other he’s gonna kill us both!”

“Pretty sure he’d understand the extenuatin’ circumstances,” Jack retorts. “The extenuatin’ circumstances bein’ that you don’t know how ta quit bein’ a jackass⁠—”

“I want to apologize to her,” Racetrack admits.

Jack stares at him. “Youse serious?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t'a said it if I wasn’t,” Race replies, meeting Jack’s eyes just as steadily. “Jus’, set somethin’ up, okay? Let me know when and where and I’ll be there.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, but it does nothing to calm the storm surging inside him.

“I’ll talk ta Maggie,” he says curtly. “But if she don’t wanna meet wit’cha then it ain’t happenin’.”

Race nods. “That’s fair.”

“Now, is that everythin’?” he asks, voice tight.

“Yeah,” Race says, his expression inscrutable. “That’s everythin’.”

Jack turns to finally leave, to finally put this whole goddamn day behind him, but one last thought draws him back.

“Don’t think for a second that this makes us square,” he says, pointing a finger at his chest. “‘Cause we’re anythin’ but.”

“Oh, trust me, Jack,” Racetrack says, and there’s something sharp about his smile, a flinty edge threatening to draw blood. “The feelin’s mutual.”

00000

Chapter eight here

Tag List!

@sapphosboy

@dr-charlie-eppes

@amillionandonefandoms

@dreams-and-bones

@mainstreamelectricalparade

@wineandhargreeves

@thenoteworthyhelen

@rag-tag-ragamuffin

@ill-purple-your-nurple

@cosmic-croissant

@quynhorlose

@lord-kaira

@kingofyewnork

@lauren2109

[our-favourite-orcs]

REVIVAL ROUND

The three candidates that get the most votes will get to move on to round 2!

Propaganda under the cut!

Propaganda for The Orc from Enclave:

Honestly, dude's just got a nice set of back muscles.

Propaganda for The Return of the King (Rankin-Bass):

They sing a silly lil song what more do u want

Propaganda for Natalie Armpits, Dodge Duranga, and Canyonera - Rude Tales of Magic:

They love riddles

Propaganda for Ghazkull Mag Uruk Thraka from Warhammer 40,000:

- Ork technology works because they believe it does. Otherwise it’s just a pile of scrap metal. - They are humanoid fungi that reproduce by releasing spores when they die. - Their society’s currency is teeth. Mostly their own, since they grow back like shark teeth do. - Ghazkull got his head chopped off. Somebody decided to staple it to a robot body. This worked, somehow, and now he’s alive again. - Ghazkull’s full name may be a dig at Margaret Thatcher. - Ghazkull has a human nemesis that he enjoys fighting with. Even when he captured him, Ghaz let him go, saying “Good enemies is hard to find.”

Propaganda for Grumsh One Eye from Dungeons And Dragons:

Dude fought the Elf God, lost an eye, scared the rest of the orcs into being dicks and killing elves like him, leads an entire goddamn orc pantheon.

Propaganda for Arti from Tumblr:

He is my friend and I'm mostly just submitting this for a bit and think it'll make him happy

Propaganda for Dungeons & Dragons (Cartoon):

honestly have no propaganda for them specifically, theyre villain henchmen really, i just think the cartoon should get more recognition and its was the first piece of media i thought of when i saw someone reblog your tournament intro

Propaganda for Clarisse Vorak from Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura:

She might not look very orcish and she's a potential player character and therefore she's what you make her, but she's a half-orc scientist facing racism. And I read a fanfic about her that made me fascinated with her, I swear.

Propaganda for Flerbish from Tumblr:

Flerbish can photosynthesise

Propaganda for Stunkbug from Not Another DnD Podcast:

He’s Orc Frasier

Propaganda for Gallarush from The Demon Prince Goes to the Academy:

Gallarush from DPA is an orc who became a vampire before the story started. He's the second oldest of the Vampire Council, a group of Vampire Lords with factions relating to days of the week & elements (Gallarush is the Lord of Friday, which correlates to metal) that aided the MC and eventually became an Elder Council for a newly reconstructed Darklands / Demon Kingdom that was composed of demons and humans. He often teases the oldest member of the council, Luruien/Luvien, an Elf-Vampire who erases most of her memories every ~200 years, and is highly protective of the second youngest of the Council - a Homunculus-Vampire who wants a soul named Lucinil. He's just a good guy / old man

[ladydragonkiller]

I posted 11,983 times in 2022

That's 11,983 more posts than 2021!

196 posts created (2%)

11,787 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-dashing-mx-ollandre

@ulysses-but-somehow-more-transer

@kazs-scheming-face

@jewishdainix

@charlataninred

I tagged 1,538 of my posts in 2022

#prev - 46 posts

#the mechanisms - 34 posts

#unreality - 32 posts

#raphaella la cognizi - 23 posts

#liz inquires - 20 posts

#you feel it in your chest - 19 posts

#raphivy - 14 posts

#the forgetmenauts - 14 posts

#&lt;3 - 13 posts

#:d - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#'i fought tooth and nail for professional dignity and recognition' girl just say you read how to play nice w youtube algorithms and go

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Do you ever get a song stuck in your head but you can’t sing it to get it unstuck cause it’s not actually a song, it’s an eldritch chant?

174 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

#4

Hey. You. Yes, you. Go listen to the forgetmenauts

218 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#3

I've been re-listening to some early tma and noticed some interesting lines from episode 2 with everybody's fave Joshua Gillespie.

everyone loves him because he just decided he was going to live with the coffin. improvise adapt overcome. wake up finding you're opening the spooky lock? freeze the key. he got so used to the big ole moaning coffin chilling in the living room that it didn't even freak him out anymore

(image ID: screenshot of the transcript of MAG 002: Do Not Open, reading as follows: I lived like that for almost a year and a half. It’s funny how fear can just become as routine as hunger – at a certain point I just accepted it. My first clue that my time keeping the coffin was coming to an end was when it began to rain and there was silence.)

but as I was chilling along with him, I realized that some of this seemed familiar. in fact, it rung a bell in my head connected to one of the episodes that is generally considered the scariest from tma. that's right - 086: Tucked In

See the full post

290 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#2

ivy alexandria. you agree. reblog

478 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

rotating drumbot brian in my head like he’s leftovers in the microwave nO WAIT HES MADE OF METAL GET HIM OUT O-💥💥💥💥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥💥💥

540 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[timelesskaleidoscope]

"Blood, Sweat, Tears and Smiles"

A familiar face and voice welcomes the little one in this beautiful world. The birth of a child is another step towards a lifelong journey of motherhood and welcoming of a new life. 

On a really hot Monday afternoon, September 2, 2024 , we have the opportunity to interview and have a sneak peak on the life of Blessie, a mother of an infant, about her life long journey of being a mother to 2 beautiful children and a happily married wife. 

Blessie’s youngest baby, Keonna, had a rocky and overwhelming start on this world. After she was born, she was in and out of hospital for nearly a month due to blood infection, cough and runny nose. “Lisod ug hadlok kay sulod gawas siya sa hospital tas akoang lawas garecover pa gikan panganak kay gi cesarian ko” Blessie shared. Thankfully after multiple vaccines and medicines, the brave little Keonna recovered, discharged and was ready to go home. For the last 8 months, Keonna fully recovered and grew, receiving love from her mother, father, older sister, family members and friends, and neighbors. When asked about the development and skills of her baby, “ Kabalo na siya mag close open sa iyahang kamot ug kabalo na siya muligid ug kamang” Blessie replied with a proud look on her face, looking at her little Keonna at the floor crawling and enjoying the company of her neighbors. 

When it comes to Keonna’s cognitive and socioemotional development, Blessie notices that Keonna is curious and interested about the things around her. “Masigi siyag lingi lingi sa palibot, ug tawagon siya mura pug siyag naminaw. Ganahan pud ni siya mutan aw sa kanang mga dulaan na nagbitay bitay iyahang tan-awon tas kab-oton” Blessie stated sweetly. “Muila pud ni si Keonna kay ug dili familiar ang nawong na iyahang makita kay muhilak siya” Blessie added as she watches Keonna crying while being held by one of her neighbors. Baby Keonna’s cognitive and socioemotional development such as her recognition and thinking skills can be observed when it comes to her interaction with unfamiliar and familiar faces, her actions towards toys, and towards the people calling her name. It is also noticeable that Keonna does not cry when being held by people she often sees and recognizes. In terms of Keonna’s physical development, Blessie stated that Keonna’s weight and body is normal for her month.” Nistop na siyag breastfeed pagka 2 months niya mao gigatas na namo siya tas ginapakaon pud nako siyag lugaw” Blessie stated.”Si Keonna kay mas active ug gabie kay dili siya katulog mao pulaw ko ug gabie kay muhilak man siya ug lihokan”. It is noticeable that baby Keonna is well fed and is receiving enough nutrients through drinking formula milk. Keonna easily cries and becomes irritated due to her teeth growing and hot weather yet overall Keonna is a healthy and cute little baby.

Blessie faces challenges throughout her journey in motherhood as well as being a wife yet she manages it with grace, strength, determination and love. “Naa guy times na lisod kay kailangan man namo palitan ug gatas ug mga needs si Keonna. Ga eskwela pud iyahang ate ug highschool mao daghan ug gasto. Dako sila ug gap, 13 years ilahang gap ni Keonna ug iyahang ate” Blessie shared. “Pero mamanage man pud kay todo supporta ug ga provide pud akoang bana mao makaya ra mao gapasalamat pud ko. Akoa pud magulang na anak kay siya na muatiman sa iyahang sarili pag mu eskwela” Blessie added as she smiles and faces the challenges with bravery and gratefulness.

Despite her share of struggles and challenges in life, she manages to balance it. “Lisod gud pero kayanon para nila, akoa nalang ikatulog ug hilak kung kapoy na kaayo. Dako pud katabang akoa Bana kay siya may mulihok ug sakit akoang tahi, likod ug akoang lawas. Naa guy times na kapoy na kaayo ko kay kulang tulog”  Blessie shared with a hint of sadness and tears in her eyes. . 

Even with those struggles and challenges of being a mother especially having an infant, Blessie was full of joy and love towards her family. The strength, gratefulness, and God-fearing attitudes of Blessie enlightens their home, giving it a warm feeling of love, laughter and togetherness. She is always positive and excited about the future development of her children.

“Akong wish lang gud sa ilaha na mudako sila na maka-diyos ug good health pirmente ug malipayon sila” Blessie wishes from the bottom of her motherly heart towards her children. “ Bahala nag walay akoa basta mahatag nako tanan sa ilaha mahappy na pud ko” Blessie stated. A sentence that can stand against all the challenges and storms in life, showcasing the sacrifices, strength, happiness and never ending love of a mother.

[abcdevvv]

Milk, Giggles, and Midnight Cuddles

At the beginning of the Christmas season, we had the chance to interview a mother of an infant about her experiences raising 5 children who are currently residing in Davao City.  For Marilou, this season is a time of happiness and gratitude as she looks back on the challenges and triumphs of raising her youngest child, who will turn nine months old this November 8, 2023.

Marilou’s youngest daughter faced a rocky start to life, spending her first month in the hospital due to a blood infection that led to Marilou stopping the baby's immunizations. "Ingon sa Doctor na apektuhan iyang ugat sa mata maong wala na gipadayon ang mga injection na para sa baby," Marilou shared. Despite this challenge, the baby is slowly adapting as days go by and healthy growing with lots of love from her parents. When asked about her child’s skills, Marilou explained that her daughter has started crawling and enjoys spinning around on her bed, this allows Marilou to manage household chores while keeping an eye on her. “Dili siya pala hilak ibutang ra nako na siya diha mag dula ra na ug iyaha,” Marilou said with a smile. “Dira na siya mo hilak ug gigutom ug kung gi samokan na sa iyang igsuon” she added.

The baby has already begun to hold objects within her reach and can say simple words like “mama” and “papa,” although, she seems to prefer calling her father. Marilou noted that her daughter is now being fed breast milk and occasionally Cerelac as an alternative.

In terms of cognitive development, Marilou has noticed her daughter’s growing curiosity about the world around her. “Sige siya ug kab ot sa mga butang sa iyang palibot, ug tawagon nimo iyang pangaln mo lingi na siya, samot na ug iyang papa ang manawag,” Marilou stated. The baby’s memory and recognition skills are also noticed as she responds to familiar faces, especially those of her siblings. As the baby’s attention span slowly increases, Marilou finds joy in watching her daughter focus on toys and simple activities. "Oh mao to mag sige ra na siyag tuyok ug mag kamang draa sa higdaanan, unya mag hilabot sa palibot bisan unsa ray gunitan taman sa iyang magunitan," she laughed. Marilou has observed strong attachment behaviors in her daughter, particularly towards her father, who she often seeks out for comfort. "Papa’s girl jud na siya," Marilou noted.

Despite the challenges of raising five children, when asked about her ability to manage their whims and needs. “Dili man ko mamunal, pero ginakasab-an nako sila pag sobraan na,” she explained. Marilou’s calm and patience have established a strong bond between her and her children making her household a place of love and laughter. Like many mothers, Marilou has faced her share of challenges. Balancing the demands of her children while taking care wiith other responsibilities can be too much to handle, especially when sleep deprivation kicks in. “Naay usahay na kapoyon kay daghag buhaton, pero makaya ra para sa ilaha,” Marilou shared.

"Naa pud usahay maglisod mi, tama ra ang 3k sa semana namo usahay makulang pa gani," she said. “Pero ug paiguon jud siya, kaya man” she added. Financial problems has also been a constant challenge, particularly when the family needed to purchase antibiotics for the baby’s recovery. However, Marilou is grateful for the support they received from Lingap, which helped cover their hospital bills. 

“Lalo na sa kay baby na sa karon sa iyaha ko ga focus kay syempre baby pa pero pantay-pantay silang lima sakoa” she said, as her eyes reach to her children. Despite these difficulties, the joy of watching her children grow, their laughter, and the quiet moments of midnight snuggles bring her satisfaction. As the baby approaches her 9-month birthday, Marilou looks forward to more milestones and memories. "Kada adlaw kay blessing para samoa na," she said, her voice filled with the quiet strength and love that only a mother can know.

[plungermusic]

We give you the very best… of the worst of 2023

Every mag and website on the planet exploits the year-end to have the carefully culled darlings of the big PR firms listed in their Top 10s (or Top Fives if the field is barrel-scrapingly narrow), or awarded various accolades of Best This That or The Other of the year just gone. Boring isn’t it?

So Plunger have instead collected some of the more memorably bad, ridiculous or eye-brow-poppingly unbelievable events of the year.

The ‘“Either you’re utterly clueless about your own scene or money’s changed hands here”’ prize:

The WhoAMAUK awards (for the nth year running).

Astonishing levels of one or the other on display here as the nominated four best acts include one who are (by their own admission) ‘alt-rock’ and another who is apparently also among the very best blues, classic rock, folk and prog acts this country has to offer.

Honourable mention: Classy Crock, and Henri Hoffbrauhaus: Despite being published in a whole magazine devoted almost entirely to rock music, the top spot in their supposedly specalist niche ‘Top 5 blues albums of the year’ went to an act who are basically a rock act not rocky enough to make it in the rock scene. Good effort, Henri.

The ‘“How can we put you off coming even more than you already were?”’ prize.

The organisers of Smegness Redux.

Stunning achievement in giving you the same experience you could have enjoyed had Maplins not decided that a blues festival was beneath even them, but in a wetter windier scuzzier location.

The ‘“We’re all one big happy family…” said Mr and Mrs Borden’ prize:

Steam Butlers v the rest of the blues scene.

A truly engrossing, where’s-the-popcorn, 10 round, knock-down-drag-out spat over who took some photos many years ago.

The ‘“Abroad is bloody”international incident of the year’ prize: 

European boules oignon. 

Breathtaking turn around from their usual stance of “Les rosbifs, zey always play ze rock not ze blurz, hur hur hur” when, faced with a UK act of unquestionable blues pedigree and talent, they picked basically a heavy rock act as winners instead this year.

Honourable mention: Cannelloni Cousins US tour. Flying the band over the pond at great expense (those artist visas alone would bankrupt a small country) to escape the ageing blues crowds here only to play to an enthusiastic crowd of… Florida Snowbirds (in what closely resembled a Tring drill hall, to boot). 

The ‘“I found it in a skip, but I saw you coming” Crowdfunder’ prize:

Shaved Bivalve.

Exciting new entrants, beating the perennial suspiciously-faster-than-a-speeding-bullet winners from previous years, with a truly fabulous list of ‘stretch gains’ beyond the usual ‘mix the album, press the album, distribute the album’ targets. Including individual Tahitian foot massages, chocolates from Prestat and a new yacht. As well as being suspiciously faster-than-a-speeding-bullet.

Honourable mention: Riff ‘Lucky’ Raff. After being stuck by lightning, attacked by a shark and hit by a speeding roadroller traction engine (on the same afternoon, mark you), the fresh-faced Wile E Coyote-alike snapper had a Crowdfunder arranged for him, ostensibly to raise the princely sum of the price of a Nikon lens hood (and definitely NOT to raise his name-recognition amongst lower-echelon budget-conscious tog-hunters on the scene… that’s just ‘lucky’ happenstance).

And remember, the year isn't actually finished yet so there's plenty of time for more 'lucky' winners!