#Unsung Locations

[thewertsearch]

During his penance, it was said the Sufferer's compassion for his people underwent a divine transformation, into limitless, burning rage.

I would expect nothing less. He might be a hero, but he’s still a Vantas.

It burned hotter than the irons shackling him to the imperial flogging jut, and redder than the blood soaking his Righteous Leggings.

You hear that, Karkat?

Those are holy garments that you’re wearing. Respect them.

When he was finally killed, his anger rung through the cosmos with his last breath. This Vast Expletive was his final sermon, and somewhere encoded in its wavelengths was the truth in his teachings, waiting to reveal itself to any who would inherit his burden.

Some day, the grand legacy of Karkat's bloodline will arrive in his heart – and if I’m not mistaken, it will arrive as the loudest FUCK that our boy has ever heard.

This is exactly the kind of awakening that Karkat deserves. 10/10.

His teachings would also persist through surviving disciples, but in hushed tones.

Redglare was born long after the Sufferer’s tale was censored out of existence, but these Pyropes are savvy girls. I'm sure the Neophyte was wise enough to question her planet’s bloody history, and sneaky enough to seek out like-minded compatriots under the Grand Highblood’s nose.

It seems like she even knew enough to predict the location of her own descendant’s hive, and gifted her a dragon that I’m willing to bet was kin to her own. An unsung hero of the previous age, for sure.

His following would dwindle to an obscure cult facing persecution for centuries.

Surely he’s not talking about Gamzee’s cult? Those clowns are all about the hemospectrum, and certainly wouldn’t heed the sermons of some bleeding-heart redblood.

Maybe the Juggalo cult is technically a splinter of Sufferism, but its founder’s message has been corrupted beyond all recognition, to suit the needs of those in power. We should all be thankful that such a disturbing concept has only been explored in fiction.

The Sufferer preached that after he passed, another Signless would come, heralding the end times for their planet. The Second Signless would continue his work, and lead his people to glory beyond this realm. The followers kept his teachings alive for ages, even as the uproar surrounding the movement subsided. By modern times, the Sufferer's scripture was little more than ancient superstition all but forgotten. Hardly the anathema of old. But the followers had already made their preparations in the shadows, and when the Second Signless finally came he would have a lusus to raise him and a sign to his name.

You hear that, Karkat? You were never really alone. If anything, you were the most loved troll in all of Alternian history – loved by trolls who would never meet you, but who worked for centuries to ensure that you’d be born safe.

That you’d have your Crabdad.

...alright, what if I just cried.

[epicfroggz]

Age of Shadow

(This is a fan-made Messmer questline and ending, not based on cut content or anything of the sort. Source is: I made it up. Thanks to @purpupa for helping with some of the items, inspiring me, and listening to my crazed ramblings at the midnight hours. Very long post ahead, enjoy!)

After his fight, particularly after the Hornsent has left his arena, you will be able to locate Messmer at the entrance to the keep’s infirmary, near the West Rampart site of grace. He will be standing in thought before these three chairs:

Messmer has donned a cloak made of Shadow and patched himself up using black gauze (see drawing above). When prompted, he says:

“Hello, Tarnished. There art three chairs here, but none fit me. That seemeth an oversight, does it not?”

Messmer does not turn to face you when he speaks. When prompted again, he says:

“… Thou hast not walked away yet. Doth thee needeth something?”

>Ask how he is alive

pleasantly “Serpents art exceedingly difficult to kill. Believe me, I have tried. Is that all?”

>Ask why he is not attacking

“I had underestimated thee, Tarnished. Thee hast strength befitting a lord. I shouldst not have doubted my mother.” pause “The serpent didst not expect a lightless creature like itself to be elevated to such a standing. It appears things hath changed in mine absence. I have much to learn.”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, I have a request, if thou’rt up for it. I hath misplaced some notes of mine, a recipe for a particular physick. If thee bringeth it to me, thee shalt be rewarded. Farewell, for now.”

The key item Messmer’s Notes can be found in the Specimen Storehouse, near the Storehouse, Loft site of grace. It requires climbing up the catwalks and dropping down to an area with bookshelves.

Messmer’s Notes - Barely legible cursive scrawl written by Messmer the Impaler. Details a recipe for a medicine once derived from one of his mother’s blessings. It appears to be based off a childhood memory, with a few added ingredients “for taste”.

When you return to the infirmary, Messmer will be kneeling in the “O, Mother” gesture before a shrine to Marika that he has set up, the three chairs neatly pushed out of the way. When prompted, he retracts his hands, and says:

“Hello again, Tarnished. Didst thee findeth the recipe?”

You may then give him Messmer’s Notes. Alternatively, you may choose to give him a Blessing of Marika if there is one in your inventory.

>Offer Messmer’s notes

“Oh! I thank thee. Here, thy compensation.” gives you a Rune of an Unsung Hero

>Offer Blessing of Marika

“Oh, this is… Where didst thee get this? Nay, ‘tis not my place to ask. My sincerest gratitude, Tarnished.” gives you a Marika’s Rune

You may now ask Messmer more questions:

>Ask about the jarfolk

“Ah. What remains of my mother’s people. I hath tried desperately, for aeons it seemeth, to ease their suffering, yet… At what point is keeping a patient alive no longer in the interest of their wellbeing? At what point does it becometh insanity?“ shakily “I still feeleth as though I hast failed them…”

The second question only unlocks after you have defeated both Rellana and Gaius. If you have not, when you leave and travel back to the West Rampart site of grace, you will be greeted by the sound of Messmer weeping. Walking within ten feet of him or breaking objects in the room will cause him to stop. When prompted, he says:

trying to sound intimidating but holding back tears “Begone, Tarnished.” shakily “Messmer does not wish to speak to thee at this moment…”

Leaving and traveling back to the West Rampart site of grace will let you choose the second question:

>About your friends…

“I knoweth, Tarnished. They were in thy way, were they not? Rellana, and Gaius… I shall grant them a hero’s burial. May they returneth to the Erdtree yet, even if that is a vain hope in this land.” quietly “My friends, forgive me… For I have availed you nothing…”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, thee can travel to the Lands Between, can thee not? I have another request for thee.”

A cutscene plays wherein Messmer carefully pulls a snake from his eye socket. During it, he says: “After shedding the seal, I recalled abilities lost to me. Some wonderful, some terrible, some… Gah! Hah… For thee, Tarnished. On thy travels, I bid thee well.”

Thus he will grant you this key item:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Writhes around often. Stares longingly at the world, or perhaps stares hungrily at you. Who can tell? “Do take care of it, wilt thee?”

After reluctantly accepting the serpent, when you travel back to any grace in the Lands Between that Melina can spawn at, there will be a new option to Speak to Melina. She will say:

“What in the world is that creature you travel with? It seems to like me… You are exceedingly warm, little snake.” pause “It appears hungry. I can feed it some runes, if you would like?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“Snakes are said to be traitors to the Erdtree, but we too are walking the path of heresy. Let’s get you fed, little one… There. Do tell, where did you find it?” pause “A long lost demigod pulled it out of his eye? Have you been afflicted with madness? No, you are entirely sincere. Huh. Well, it seems harmless enough.”

The serpent must be fed one more time to continue the quest. Speak to Melina at any grace and she will say:

“Hello. The little one hungers once again. Would you like to offer some runes?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“I am surprised at its good nature, though I have witnessed it spit a red flame when angered. It is impossible not to question what sort of demigod it came from…”

An interaction occurs wherein Messmer materializes in a shadowy haze—not unlike the spirit fog through which Melina appears to you. He introduces himself: “Ah, so it was thee feeding the wee serpent? I knew it smelled like kin… I am Messmer, and thee?”

dumbfounded “Melina?”

“I see. Melina. Sister of mine, I knoweth of the kindling that smolders within thee.” he summons a small flame in his hand to show her “There is no need to burn thy self again. The Tarnished and I shall see it through.”

After this, the description of the Juvenile Serpent item updates:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Prefers the company of the kindling maiden, as her touch feels like home. It will not bite the hand that feeds it. Serves as an anchor between the Lands Between and the veiled Land of Shadow.

(Optional) Taking the serpent in this state to the Church of Vows site of grace allows you to choose the new option, Speak to Messmer, which will summon him in shadowy spirit:

“Thou hast met Miriel? We became acquainted when Rellana once brought me here… ‘Tis a burning memory now, but the pastor is a wise beast indeed.” he looks to the sky “‘Heresy is not native to the world. All things can be conjoined’. We have forgotten that. We have forgotten ourselves, what we held most dear. To repair shattered Gold, I must layeth bare the ugliest truths of this world, those which I have been the bearer of for so long—I must mend it with Shadow. For there is no light that exists without the dark.”

Taking the serpent to the Forge of the Giants site of grace allows you to choose Speak to Messmer:

“Thou hast done well to come this far, Tarnished. Long have the prophets uttered of this moment. ‘Tis not lightly I choose to fulfill it, but… I wouldst prefer to give my men the option to return home, if nothing else. Art thou prepared to commit a cardinal sin, with me?”

>Accept

A cutscene plays, in which the Erdtree and Scadutree are burned at once in Messmer’s flame. Messmer speaks:

“Tarnished, hold my kindling aloft. From here, I shall do my part… O, Erdtree, and Scadutree both, ye shall burn together. For the sake of the new Lord, and a new world, mended.”

You continue your journey to Farum Azula and then back to Leyndell, Capital of Ash. Sir Gideon Ofnir will have access to the incantation “Messmer’s Orb” in his fight (why wasn’t this a thing already???). At the Queen’s Bedchamber site of grace, you must choose to Speak to Messmer one last time:

“Ah… Thou art close. Within the Erdtree, I intend to confront my mother. If it be true she has become infirm, and lost all sense of self… Then I shalt taketh her place. The Two Fingers rejected me long ago, but I am yet capable. If it cometh to this, will thee be my Lord?”

>Accept

“I thank thee. We have come a long way, Tarnished.” small laugh “When it cometh to thee, I find I have no regrets. Take this, and when the bell tolls, summon me forth. To stand before my mother once again.”

Thus you will be granted this key item:

Mending Rune of the Abyssal Prince - Mending rune gestated by Messmer the Impaler. Used to restore the fractured Elden Ring when brandished by the Elden Lord. Formed of a swirling mass of serpents, and the base serpent biting its own tail. It will embed a Shadow lost back into the Golden Order, restoring balance. The “base” in the base serpent’s name refers both to its nature and the place it once belonged, at the roots of the Erdtree where light does not reach.

After defeating Radagon and Elden Beast, you will have the option to summon Messmer from a shadowy summon sign on the ground, giving this final cutscene:

“‘Those who walk alongside flame shall one day meet the road of Destined Death’… Yet, it seemeth my road hast led me back to thee.”

“Mother… Thee may rest now. I shall put thee, and this world, back together again…”

Messmer gently gives Marika’s head to you, and you place it upon her body, the Elden Ring becoming mended with the abyssal rune. The scene lingers on her as the shadows in the background deepen, and as a squelching sound grows in volume, soon thunderous. From the darkness suddenly emerges the abyssal serpent to swallow her whole, its red eyes burning against the dark:

The scene cuts to black.

Messmer narrates the final scene, showcasing the now physical Erdtree grafted unto its Scadu counterpart: “The fallen leaves tell a story… Of a Tarnished who became Elden Lord... And the serpent that became a god. A god that ushered in a gentle dark, so that this shattered world may heal.

So that the light of Gold can shine ever more brilliantly, against an Age of Shadow."

[candy616]

Some cool legit* Graves headcanons.

*I personally don’t like making headcanons out of nowhere; I prefer to study canon thoroughly. But since Graves is based on an actual man, it gives my mind permission to create some headcanons. Now, I’ve watched almost EVERY video featuring EP (and about him, both "good" and "bad"), and I can tell that they are extremely similar in some ways but very different in others. I don’t think I’ll ever do a full breakdown comparison (because I’ve already forgotten almost every detail, and rewatching everything would take me another year, lol). But I want to share some really nice things that suit Graves very well. The first two things were actually shared by EP’s former colleague (and now a traitor).

When Graves was on his way to the Congress hearing, he was listening to "Rage Against the Machine – Killing in the Name" on repeat, singing along to the line "Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me" over and over again. He was frustrated that he had to explain his actions to civilians who weren’t even there. (I had a Graves cover of this song on my YouTube channel, but YouTube deleted my channel, so I can’t share it.)

Graves doesn’t have any hobbies—not one that isn’t related to warfare in some way. When a curious Shadow asked him about it, Graves dismissed him, saying, "My hobby is counter-insurgency." He studies conflicts around the world relentlessly, looking for opportunities. If he’s not at war, he’s bored.

Plus, Graves is a huge history buff. He knows everything about any kind of warfare, past and present. He can always make a reference to a battle or a war hero for any occasion.

Graves has a pilot’s license, of course. He loves flying. (Another hobby related to warfare, lol.) He owns some private light aircraft.

Graves aggressively built up an aviation wing in Shadow Company and supplied aircraft to the CIA and other government agencies. They have a lot of civilian aircraft, including both fixed-wing light airplanes and helicopters. With Shepherd’s permission, he was allowed to acquire some military aircraft. And the tank was Shadow Company property, too. When Shepherd allowed him to borrow an AC-130 for some missions, he was literally ecstatic.

Graves wears a titanium Breitling Emergency watch. These watches have a personal locator beacon (PLB) integrated into them.

Also, I really love how they have exactly the same facial expressions. They both have an identically sweet and kind smile (the kind that reaches their eyes) when they like you or are in a good mood. At the same time, they can give the most chilling, polite smile—more like a reptilian stare—if you try to accuse them or piss them off somehow.

Shadow Company sad bonus (sorry): !DO NOT GOOGLE IF YOU CAN’T BEAR IRL VIOLENCE!

The first Shadow Company ambush by Konni was probably based on the 2004 Fallujah ambush.

Shadow Company’s the Las Almas incident was probably based on the Nisour Square Massacre.

Shadow Company would probably be renamed and eventually sold to someone else. (I hope they don’t decide to kill Graves, or I’m coming after them.)

Written especially for my luv @bellgraves hope you like it! 💖💖 And @xxavengingangelxx ❤️ maybe you'll find some of it useful. Also @makeila04 ❤️

Further reading (for myself lol):

"Civilian Warriors: The Inside Story of Blackwater and the Unsung Heroes of the War on Terror" by Erik Prince.

"Master of War: Blackwater USA's Erik Prince and the Business of War" by Suzanne Simons.

"Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army" by Jeremy Scahill.

"We Were Blackwater: Life, death and madness in the killing fields of Iraq – an SAS veteran’s explosive true story" by Barrie Rice.

[superm4ks]

Honestly crazy to me that max won all the European AND all the American races this year like wtf

Max has won almost every race held in American soil for the past 3 years. 2 wins ((COTA and Mexico)) out of a possible 3 in 2021.

2022: 4 out of 5 Sunday wins in America ((Miami, COTA, Mexico, Canada)) including 3 grand slams.

2023. SIX out of SIX wins on American soil, street and classic tracks alike, debuting formats and new tires, under mixed conditions, against an unfair level playing field that wasnt above pathetic attempts to beat Max’s rb19 car with balance and downforce settings. ((And wud result in a joint DSQ from Merc and Ferrari)). Rb19 did suffer did a lil. The machine behind the steering wheel however, did not. Six North American races, six wins. ((Miami, Canada, COTA, Brazil, Mexico, Las Vegas)) New record, most wins in a single geographical location: North America. Max lands on US soil and just shows these bitches what an actual good racing driver can do. Tire management, simple throttle and wheel work, strong overtaking, unyielding at the line. Early braking, setup inimitable.

And this all started in America, mind u, 7 years before, wid the unsung hero of F1. The other blond guy that beat Hamilton. 2016 in Brazil, Max was 17 years old, wet, anxious, about to explode. But confident. Almost too confident. What rosberg had to withstand from that inexperienced, reckless child under extreme conditions for 2 and a half hour shud be enough to put that p3 on the list of wins today. Max had 1 cap, 2 pimples to his name , and the audacity to hunt down Nico rosberg like a dog in Interlagos. It wasn’t personal. It was a threat. It was a promise. Nico had a taste of it, completed his championship season, and quit the sport that same year.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

The Bigmouth buffalo isn’t the prettiest fish in the water, nor is it particularly appealing to eat, but it has unsung qualities that scientists say are increasingly important in a climatically challenged, ecologically homogenizing world: It gets really big and really old.

The bottom-feeding fish, which swims through much of the Mississippi River basin, can grow up to 50 pounds and live for 100 years or more. When fishermen haul it out of rivers, though, they often toss it aside.

“People catch them and just throw them on the bank,” said Keller Kopf, an ecologist at Charles Darwin University in Australia. “These are 90-year-old fish.”

Kopf’s recent research finds that these old Bigmouth buffalo—and many other animal species—are essential to thriving ecosystems, providing buffers from the impacts of climate change-induced weather extremes. Like old, large trees, these species are now being understood as uniquely valuable assets in their ecosystems. And like old, large trees, they are in decline.

“People assume old individuals are unimportant. We have that with humans,” Kopf said. “I think older individuals, across a wide range of animals, are really quite under-appreciated.”

Kopf and eight research colleagues from around the world recently authored a first-of-its-kind analysis in Science based on a review of nearly 10,000 research studies. Most research, up to now, has focused on the negative effects of aging in animals—increased cancer rates, decreased rates of reproduction and higher mortality. “But there’s all this other evidence being published showing there are lots of benefits of older individual animals across a wide range of species,” Kopf said. “And an over-emphasis on those negative aspects provides an incomplete picture, particularly when it comes to how we manage wildlife and fisheries, and we’ve overlooked those benefits.”

The researchers found that in many animal species age is an asset, especially in environments where climate change presents greater threats or has altered habitats. These species, which accumulate knowledge over their lifetimes, tend to take a long time to grow large, but fall into different categories. Some of them—like whales or elephants—expend a lot of energy into parenting and raising a small number of individuals. Some—like tuna—expend a lot of their energy into dispersing huge numbers of eggs and individuals, but essentially none on parenting. 

The animals pass on information, both environmental and social—what the authors call “cultural transmission”—to their communities and offspring that’s critical for their survival. “These older individuals are the ones that have the greater knowledge,” Kopf said. “Some of these species know the best time of year to leave, to migrate a long distance, and where to go and how to navigate conditions.” When resources are scarce, these species know how to find water and shelter, or to locate “novel foods” that they normally don’t eat. 

“We’re calling it wisdom,” Kopf said. “That’s a term that, generally, in the past, was only used for people—for human beings. But by many of the most basic definitions of how human beings define wisdom, there are animals that meet that criteria, and those tend to be older individuals, just like in humans.”

[cherrypikkins]

Here is my contribution for today's prompt for @fe-oc-week! Oct 9 - Introductions. I'll be posting about my fe3h oc, Kitt Burgess, as well as some related lore.

Kitt Burgess (they/them) Date of Birth: 14th of the Ethereal Moon (12/14) Place of Birth: Annwen, a village in the southern Oghma Mountains, Adrestia Height: 159cm/168cm Affiliation: Church of Seiros Crest: None (?) Strengths: Axes, Riding, Flying Weaknesses: Faith, Heavy Armor Budding Talent: Reason

Personal Ability: Demonic Resonance - Bonus to critical hit when within the attack range of a monster.

Interests: Wilderness survival, monster hunting Likes: The outdoors, superstition and fortune-telling, peculiar tasting foods Dislikes: Fighting against people, church politics, insect swarms, bland tasting foods

Click the read more for more lore :3 !

Kitt Burgess, Ward of the Church - Part I Kitt is a mysterious orphan who was taken in by the Church of Seiros at the behest of Seteth and Flayn. Though they are enrolled as a student at Garreg Mach, they have yet to officially join a house. Prior to arriving at the monastery, they lived in a remote village deep within the southern Oghma Mountains. Today, that area is but a burnt ruin, infested with Demonic Beasts.

Though outwardly polite and accommodating, they are known to be elusive, especially when asked to speak about themselves and their past. They are reluctant to use their full strength in combat, yet show an unsettling sort of enthusiasm when fighting monsters. They harbor a mutual distrust towards various members of the Church of Seiros, due to the latter's politics and secret-keeping. However, they seem to like the Professor well-enough and view them as a calming presence. They have an interest in superstition and local folklore, especially with matters concerning fate. They spend much of their time exploring the wilderness, investigating any reports of monsters or other unusual activity.

Should they be recruited, they will gladly follow Byleth to the end in any of the four routes. Otherwise, they will remain with the Church of Seiros.

Carnwennan, The Illusory Blade A forgotten relic associated with Gwyn, the Unsung Hero. The history of its usage and origins are unknown to Fodlan at large, as it has been discovered only recently by the Church of Seiros. However, the nature of its very creation is suspected to be 'monstrous beyond comprehension'.

It has the shape of a short blade, though it has the ability to suppress its own relic powers and take on the appearance of an ordinary knife. This would be explain why it has been highly difficult to track throughout history. Its true form is yet unknown. How it ultimately came to be in the possession of one Kitt Burgess is a story that they refuse to tell.

Despite taking the shape of a knife, it can be equipped as a sword.

Requires the Crest of Gwyn/Sign of the Mist Dragon to properly wield.

Chance of inflicting Silence on each attack.

Exclusive Combat Art: Spectral Sword - Might increases based on user's Resistance. Effective against Dragon foes and Mage-type units

Canopus, The Blessed Axe A sacred axe crafted by Saint Macuil, at the commission of Saint Seiros. Its powers are intended to be awakened when wielded by someone bearing the Crest of Gwyn. Because the 'true' bearer of the Crest of Gwyn has been lost since ancient history, Saint Macuil required the assistance of Saint Cichol and Saint Cethleann in order to correctly calibrate the weapon.

During the war between Seiros and Nemesis, this weapon was presented to the warrior Gwyn, who wielded it in defense of Enbarr when it was under siege. Upon Gwyn's departure from the battlefield, it was returned to the Church of Seiros and was last noted as being in the custody of Saint Cichol. Its present location is a secret closely guarded by the inner circle of the Church.

[ras-favourite-balor]

Manna transfered. Enjoy yourselves.

//Backtalker\\

[TRANSFER INCOMING] ... ... [TRANSFER RECEIVED] [MANA SECURED] [BEGINNING BROADBAND TRANSMISSION]

[Brigand}- Alrighty then, go time. Let's hope this works. Persephone?

<PERSEPHONE>- YES DEAR? IS IT TIME? TIME FOR DOOM OVERDUE?

[Brigand}- Entirely right my dear. Punch it.

<PERSEPHONE>- INITIATING FULL SUITE DIGITAL ASSAULT.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 11%]

[Brigand}- See now here's a little story about myself for all of you. I was a mercenary once, part of a company and everything, I had comrades in arms, friends, lovers even.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 23%]

[Brigand}- Now this was a long while ago mind you. But I've always had a specific and unique respect for mercs, especially as a pirate and general ne'er-do-well.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 35%]

[Brigand}- Now this isn't to say there aren't shitty mercenaries or shitty MCs. Hell I've put my fair share in the ground, and lost just as many of my own.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 47%]

[Brigand}- Been plenty of times I've had my assed saved by a merc as well. Co-operated with plenty, even as a Free-Lancer. And they are some of, if not, the hardest, most loyal sons of bitches I've ever had the displeasure of working with.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 52%]

[Brigand}- And even better, what a diverse bunch of assholes. In one squad you can find an ex-HORUS cultist, ex-Karrakin Noble, ex-Union hardliner and an ex-Corporate dog, all together, differences and pasts put aside.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 68%]

[Brigand}- They climb into machines to rival gods, to plunge with no regard for their own safety into wherever or whenever is required. Often with little to no questions asked.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 73%]

[Brigand}- They are free spirits, pathfinders and rulebreakers. The mad and dead. Making a living doing humanities dirty work. They are paid to do the work we wish wasn't necessary. They are unsung heroes.

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 82%]

[Brigand}- Apologies, I do get distracted so very easily in my old age. But I was once one of these glorious bastards. Worked with a small MC, family owned and operated. But then, one day, boss took the wrong job. Was a corporate target, HA I think?

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 93%]

[Brigand}- And oh those bastards wouldn't let that stand, sent a full flotilla to wipe us off the map. Barely escaped with my life, might say I didn't even get that much...

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD IN PROGRESS : 99%]

[Brigand}- So Backtalker, you are a right fool. To trust a pirate? A once HORUS activist? An ex-mercanary? To smite my fellow legends?

[grywsh_cnvrsn.worm UPLOAD COMPLETE : 100%] [LOCATION TRACKED] [BROADCASTING COORDINATES]

[Brigand}- You must be corporate to be such a fucking fool. @corsair-mc-official, @msmc-796-official sending over tracked coordinates now. Best act fast if you want them alive, Chernobog doesn't waste time playing with their food.

And really, I would like to sincerely apologize for this whole dilemma, had to put up a good show, make sure they didn't run too soon. Though I'd still take you up on that blinkspace drive if you've got it. Though I perfectly understand if there any hard feelings, and as a sign of good faith, and that this isn't some ruse to get yer guard down...

[TRANSFERRING MANA TO CSMC : 500'000] [TRANSFERRING MANA TO CMC : 500'000]

Best of luck with your ratcatching, if you run into Chernobog... uhhh probably best to give 'em a WIDE berth.

Till Legends Bleed Fuckers,

Brigand, out~

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Boughs. Coiled. Sanctified ⸸

She wasn’t sure if it was the rain within the woods that lulled her to sleep, exertion, or the aftereffects of too many sweets she had been gifted; shared of course which would have served no purpose to have partaken alone. The low coos and chitter of the birds in the trees brought her senses to life the moment she woke, dawn barely cresting and dappling through the trees.

They had spent the entire evening out in the woods, what turned into a small walk had led Vahalia to a purpose. A hole dug, a sapling gifted, and a revelation of unsung words which she had finally been able to settle into as peaceful acceptance.

Warmth radiated off of Hakan who still slumbered beside her, her frame already curled up in the large jacket he had discarded later that evening, the very same she found herself immersed in when she drew it over her shoulders and she padded away from their station below the canopy of greens above them.

Bare feet felt the earth, drawing comfort and solace from the cool wet ground at her flesh. The balm to just about anything; always finding herself connected in ways to the unseen. 

A feeling. A way of life. A blessing to accept the world for what it was, both benevolent and vile.

Perhaps it was the understanding of such that she found in herself, a paradox of rights and wrongs always birthed from a place of survival of the fittest and the simple matter of what one thought was ‘good’ or ‘just’.

Vahalia’s golden eyes bore down to the small sapling that had been planted in the dirt, the dark red leaves barely moving in the breeze Vahalia herself had barely felt – intent.

Magic always came with a price, it merely depended on the person wielding it and what price they were willing to pay for power. Blood Magic was taxing, damning, frowned upon and in many cases, dangerous. None of which Vahalia herself cared to shy from but there were always methods in her madness, reasons for feeding the beasts, toppling conventional beliefs and means.

Those who sought the top, stopped at nothing to see themselves there.

While her ambitions in recent months had come to a slow and soft whisper, they had never gone entirely ignored.

Hakan had a plan, it was small but in years it would bear fruit. He wanted her to bond with the tree, learn of it, study it, and then mold it as needed to fit the design he had laid out. A design? A vision.

It didn’t need to be said for her to know, she knew where his heart had laid regardless of his rebuttals or hardened exterior. Like her, Hakan too meant well in his own way, it just mattered who was listening and how they chose to interpret him.

And she was always listening…

Hakan had let Vahalia begin doing most of the work and completing, the planting of the sapling. He stared at its minuscule form, a stick really that could easily be snapped or broken underfoot, and lifted his head to imagine the sight of what it'd one day become. His hands rested half atop hers, dirty, worn, and warm. "As do I. Green is too simple a color to accept for Black Water foliage. And, I think, I've an answer to one of the questions you asked previously regarding locations."

The sable-haired woman tilted her head to the side and she let her eyes wander the woods, the space where the small sapling was left to thrive and hopefully grow, easy enough were the pensive thoughts to fall into. When he spoke again, thankful for the change in topic she finally spoke, "Locations?"

"Mmm. Location, and children. When this tree is grown full enough, fed by nature and by choice, I intend to take you beneath its boughs, against its bark, and sire a child here." he looked askance at her, brow slightly arched. "It'd be fitting, no?"

Vahalia’s tongue found her canine and she loosed a small breath, amused, "And here I thought you might have been speaking about something else. But, yes, fitting. Trees take many, many years to grow. They're not like flowers or herbs, one can only hope I'll be fertile then, if not then there is always the act itself to find enjoyment in." chewing her lip she looked back to the small sapling -- as small as it was currently, "You know...I was just thinking. When you do things like this, small things. The bracelet, sharing your book with me, the thought into small things such as location that ties into some sliver of your future and possibly ours, the slew of gifts...I think I understand now."

"The thought of you is ever on my mind," he replied teasingly, voice low, husky. It wasn't even far from the truth. "The simple solution to that would be nourishing this sapling well enough it defies the normal; I won't accept anything less than my seed finding root in you here same as the sapling we now plant." He lifted a hand from hers and brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek. "If you understand, I think nothing needs to be said."

Another enigma stood before her, a slew of one after the other that seemed to eagerly find her lap yet she accepted it all the same interested to see where the paths wound and which would become beaten or less traveled. Easy to get lost in a neverending revolving wheel of pensive thoughts. When he touched her cheek she looked back up to him, "Perhaps not. It's enough to know I'm thought about. Regarded. Meaning something, I suppose. So yes, nothing needs to be said outside of that." smiling she turned toward him, hand lifting to his forearm closest to her, " I am gra-- no. Thank you, for this. It's sweet and very meaningful and I will cherish it, making sure it grows proper."

He wanted to keep family with her, it was meaningful and appreciative. Anyone on the outside looking in could never understand. Not that they would ever care to.

Two broken souls on two paths of no reverse course and they simply made due, providing and building on what they could so those after them wouldn’t have to relive the trauma and endless battles that she and he seemed to be faced with since birth.

The world seemed a little less large and isolating with him in it.

"You are a Witch, haunting and alluring in equal measure. My Witch." Hakan ran his knuckles down to her chin and uncurled his fingers so he could hook one beneath her jaw to grasp. In a leading movement, he sought to bring her face closer, head dipping so his nose bumped against hers. "I have more gifts still," he breathed toward her, free hand procuring a small box from his coat to hold between them. "You'll find them...familiar. I think it only fitting we lay our claim here, now. A promise for our future intent."

She was skeptical, knowing his type, his preferences, his overall enjoyment in seeing people squirm or finding pleasure in the unease. However; she conformed well enough; naturally even and as close as they were without ears to hear beyond them her eyes darted over his face, "Why the gifts? Are you buttering me up before breaking it to me that you're leaving soon?" there was a small laugh, t'was par for the course with him but it was in all fairness, how they chose to live their lives. Nearly bumping herself up along her toes to steal away a kiss he might not have been keen on giving she paused at the box wedged between them. Prying away just enough her hand lifted to the box, "Familiar? More daggers or bangles?"

Hakan's chest reverberated with a brief hum, the kiss on his part chaste. "There was a day not a week past that people celebrated. I was not here, and I find the concept foolish, but it did remind me that gifts ought be given whenever the chance presents itself and that the intent to take those chances be fostered." He flicked his middle digit against the bell at her throat. 

Vahalia loosed a small chuff and looked at the box, easing the lid away as she followed up with a small chuckle, "Oh, that I am." she confirmed and she plucked up one of the sweets to her mouth with a dainty push inward of her fingertip. Sweets weren't much of her preference but, there was always an exception to every rule. Cravings being one of them. 

Slow in her chew, she pulled the piece from the bottom and held it up, nails drumming along the metal sides of its shape. The small chocolate in her mouth poofed out her cheek as she casually held it up to him, an apexed brow needing no coupled question as she held the tucked-away addition up between she and Hakan.

Of course, he responded to her arching brow with one of his own. The addition hardly needed explanation, and the expectation was clear in its very presence. He released her chin took one of the chocolates and popped it into his mouth, the strawberry filling a burst of flavor. For the time being he held off on another, leaning back and lifting his chin, he gave a look she'd fully know the meaning of. 

The sweet in her mouth slowly moved a moment before swallowing and she dropped her hand with the metal piece, pocketing for the time being. When she was met with silence and little else of a reply she turned inward toward him, crimson lips finding the underside of his jaw.

Vahalia knew nothing of where Hakan had found this tree or the additional properties of it. What signatures of it tied to other species of timber in various areas. It was not local to Black Water, nor Old Sharlayan or Coerthas but that wasn’t to say her curiosity wasn’t piqued.

As long as she continued to feed it proper and nurture it, it would grow in abundance and if there was two things Vahalia knew well, it was flora and the occult.

Rain would quench a thirst for a time but true spellwork came from rituals and the payment in abundance of origin. The very roadmap that beat through every living thing on the Star.

The blade from the belt on her pants was taken up and without hesitation, Vahalia turned back to the sapling and like before, with Valeria’s sapling in the Laeves, the Cress Matriarch offered herself and payment. When cold steel carved a deep split into her palm, she clenched her fist, flexing her fingers to pump and support the flow as the quickening droplets of crimson soothed the dirt below at the base of the sapling.

“Drink deep.” she hushed out, speaking to the fragile sapling under her hovering hand. There were no fancy chants or tools, no gathered items to invoke a proper alter. No candles or lit torches – simply the bounty of the wood. 

The nature of the breeze that filled her lungs.

A familiar deluge from the skies opening up providing the land a quench to its thirst.

Hard, solid earth and dirt below her feet and around her in many forms.

The fire was what she felt when she bled herself an offering for the sapling. The rage that always coiled within her but often sat dormant until stoked. The fire and warmth she had felt upon waking.

There was no spell to these magnificent works of wonder. All things in balance as each element was either a boon or a curse to one another yet all living things and the mortal flesh of it all simply derived from this. Aether. Nature. Natural order…

Her thoughts stilled and while her head raised to look at the sunlight finally bespeckling through the treetops, there was no doubt where her fundamental beliefs had stemmed from something akin to metaphysics – spiritual. Connected and rooted to who she was, bound to become and the promise her mother left her with before her death.

A very distant, descendant daughter of Mhach.

Small Collab/Mention(s): @belgravexiv

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 23 “Smells Like Sheet”[Episode List]

Due to a cliché, Tim and the-gassy-as-usual Dave have to share a bed. Who could possibly know what's gonna happen next... though it may involve a dutch oven that's for sure.

POV: Tim

Smells Like Sheet

“Tim Slade and Dave Maning, right?” the receptionist kindly asked.

The hotel hall around us was way too… glittery for my standards, but that’s what happens when Dave asks you to join him for a business trip. Well, not really a business trip, but rather a rather some kind of celebration for a milestone that The Company he works for reached, and given that it was also thanks to him, he was invited to this very special dinner. However, it wasn’t as fancy or formal as the location may suggest, as Dave’s boss did tell everyone that they could let one friend or partner join the night: after all, it was a party.

My bro usually hates going to “parties” planned by The Company but since this celebration in particular was an important event, which also could lead to yet another promotion, me, our other friends and Dana (his girlfriend) basically forced him to go.

What I didn’t expect is that I’d be the one joining him instead of Dana. This happened for 2 reasons:

Reason 1: Dana was busy with her own job and couldn’t join his boyfriend even if she wanted to but, just like him, she too hates this kind of events (they’re really made for each other, huh? Can’t say I disagree however…).

Reason 2: Dave actually wanted to introduce me to his boss because they’re looking for someone with video-making skills to film something for them, maybe some kind of motivational video that corporations love to do.

So here we are, the receptionist of this fancy hotel handing us the key to our room.

“Here you go: Room 669”

“Heh. Ni-Nice” both me and Dave said, because our brains stopped working at the same time.

The receptionist pretended he didn’t hear a thing, thankfully.

We then walked through the fancy hall and took the elevator, just the two of us. We didn’t have any luggage with us, since it was just for one night, so our backpacks were enough.

“So silent…” Dave said.

“What?” I asked.

“This elevator. I can hear my own heart beating. I’m impressed.”

I stared at him, his tall figure, wearing a grey shirt and pair of black jeans. My mind immediately went to one time we took an elevator ride together and immediately stopped him before he could do anything uncalled for.

“Dude, have mercy. There’s other people who’s gonna need this elevator.”

Dave was standing next to me and turned to me, sporting a puzzled expression. He seemed confused by my words, I could tell he wasn’t being sarcastic or anything, maybe.

“What? What do you mean?”

Right. It’s not like people always thinks about farts… not that I do, believe it or not. 

I felt very embarrassed to be honest.

“S-sorry. I just thought… y-you know…” 

“Ok… you’re stuttering like an idiot…” he said. “so I’m pretty sure you thought I was going to break the silence with one of my farts, right?” the way he asked it so casually was already oddly… hot for me, but also reassuring.

“Yes.” I simply replied, hating the elevator for how long it was taking to reach our destination. “I’m sorry. But believe me, I was telling you this because I don’t want people to choke on your gas.”

He leaned towards me a bit. “Unless it’s you, right?” he whispered, the bastard.

“Shut up!” I said, as he laughed like a jerk.

Once again, silence. Dave being chill around me makes me stutter more than his blasts.

However, after like 10 seconds, I decided to break the silence instead.

“You were totally going to far-“

“Yes” he cut me off “I was totally going to destroy this elevator but you, of all people, stopped me.”

We both laughed like idiots and the doors opened. Indeed, people stepped inside as we left. They don’t know that I probably saved their nostrils, I’m the unsung hero of their story.

—

We reached our room mere seconds later. We stepped inside, but not before both me and Dave could once again go “Ni-nice” at the same time the moment we saw our room number hanging on the door. This is gonna be a thing for the next few ours so brace yourself, readers.

The room was exactly as you may expect: big, fancy, with all the comforts and more, big windows and a nice view on the city, and a queen-size bed in the middle. I almost felt out of place: it truly looks like a perfect room for an actual couple.

And no, weirdly enough the queen bed didn’t make me nervous: both me and Dave knew it was gonna happen so I already had my awkward phase back at home. My friend is chill and he doesn’t care about sharing the bed with a gay man like me, plus it already happened sometime ago anyway.

All of those doubts always sound so silly when I stop and remember how I spend way too much time with my face planted into my friend’s farting ass, courtesy of his skills and the fact that in his own non-kinky way he enjoys making sure that almost none of his farts go to waste. Well, none except the one he started ripping as I opened my backpack and sat on the bed, his way to assert dominance every time we go into a hotel room. Loud, long and proud, around 7 seconds long, so basically a medium-sized one for Dave’s standards. 

My bro raised his left hand and pointed his index finger up as the fart ended on a high note, as if he was conducting his own rip like it was an orchestra. As the blast ended, he just stared at me with a silly smile, something that he’d always do even before he found out about my kink: he’s just your average gassy friend, can’t do anything about that.

“So…” I tried to ignore the scent that reached my nose. “What’s the plan for tonight?” I asked.

“First thing first, we gotta take a shower. Not together at the same time I’m afraid. You can go first.”

“You can join me if you want…” I said, winking at him as I went into the bathroom.

“D-don’t make me horny dude!” he jokingly replied.

—

I was drying my hair by the bed while Dave took a shower (it was his turn). As I said, while it wasn’t the fancy night one might except, we kind of had to look really good, me especially, because Dave’s boss is a fine guy, but also one of those “first impression is best impression” dudes. I mean, the shower was obvious, but me going as far as making sure my hair look great, while normally I wouldn’t even use a comb, is telling.

I heard, or rather, didn’t hear the shower anymore so I knew Dave was done. What I did hear however was his ass being talky tonight, exploding in a thunderous, wet post-shower rip that easily surpassed the hair dryer’s notably loud sound. I didn’t properly see Dave ripping ass, but the fact that I could hear it so clearly was yet another proof of his incredible skills. He didn’t even comment on it, I mean it’s not like every time he farts we have to acknowledge my kink, when even I sometimes just ignore it.

“I hope you heard that, honey.” 

I heard the bastard say from the bathroom.

Yes, I sometimes just ignore it… until Dave makes sure I don’t.

—-

Finally we were ready to leave. The Company held this important dinner basically downstairs, in the hotel’s restaurant. They basically booked the entire place so we could eat, drink and just hang out together, talking about business in a surprisingly relaxing and chill environment. This was reflected in our clothes, as they were formal-ish but not, you know, wedding-tier. Dave was wearing a white shirt, sleeves pulled up, black jeans and black sneakers. I was basically dressed the same, only my shirt was grey.

“Nice. You almost look fuckable tonight.” my friend told me, as he sprayed some last bits of deodorant around us.

“I was gonna tell you the same.” 

“Well... we are in room 669 you know...” he winked at me and then headed for the door.

(Ni-Nice!)

—

Dinner was pretty good and varied, they really spared no expenses, especially considering how The Company even paid for everyone’s rooms (not that there were many guests, but still). There was meat, vegetables and even some vegan options on the menu. Both me and Dave liked the idea of trying a bit of everything, while most of the other work colleagues went for a pure carnivore approach. Alcohol was beer or wine, or both, but better not mix things up. 

Dave’s boss sometimes proposed a toast blabbering about how The Company is actually one big family… before laughing at his own overused figure of speech: he was cynical yes, but I can respect his self-awareness and lack of no-nonsense speeches about how “we’re all in this together” when we all know this isn’t true.

It all went pretty well: food was great, most of my friend’s colleagues were pretty cool I guess, and after talking for like 30 minutes, the boss simply told me to send him my portfolio, no strings attached or anything. 

Honestly I had more fun than I was expecting. Almost everything was free and everyone, whether it was a facade or not, was very nice to us, so honestly I can’t complain, only appreciate this fancy-ish night.

—

At around 2:00 AM, Dave and I got back to our room (Ni-Nice!), announcing our entrance with Dave letting out a loud belch that I’m sure tasted like the dessert. The dinner at the hotel restaurant was pretty straight-forward so once we were done eating and drinking, we had like 2 more hours of casual chatting and more drinking. There was music but it’s not like the place turned into a disco for us.

We weren’t really tired nor drunk, just a bit tipsy. We clumsily removed our shoes and collapsed on the bed. I turned the TV on and we just casually mindlessly watched it while checking our phones.

Being a queen size bed, Dave was obviously lying next to me, to my left: he was shirtless, sporting a pretty good body figure, no actual ribs but pecs were there. Given how much we ate and drank tonight, he also looked slightly bloated. His black jeans were in fact pretty loose as he untied his belt once we got back into the room. Covering his feet, a kind of out-of-place but weirdly cute pair of purple socks with a butterfly pattern on it.

We finally could talk about the night we just had, The Company itself, and most importantly make not very polite comments about a co-worker Dave particularly despises for how fake he is, one of those people ready to throw you under a bus even if that means he can get something as worthless a pat on the back by the boss.

“Your boss however” I said “really surprised me. He looks pretty chill. I think I might even enjoy working for him, about the video and all you know.”

“Yeah.” my friend remarked. “I mean he still IS the boss don’t let that fool you, but he is quite honest at least.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind when I’ll get to make the video… if he wants me to do it of course.”

“Did you send him your portfolio?”

“I just did actually. I had it zipped on my phone.”

Dave gently punched my shoulder in approval, because we’re really mature men.

“Well done bro.” he said. “I guess we gotta celebrate.”

“Yeah… with fireworks and all.” I said, sarcastically, while checking my phone.

Dave laughed. “I can help with that.”

My friend completely misinterpreted what I said and decided to showoff his well-known skills. He leaned just a bit on his side, pointing his black-denim ass towards my side of the bed, raised his right leg and let it rip. Loud, thunderous and as powerful as they come, Dave’s fart (arguably the first of a long series) almost activated my fight or flight response as I wasn’t really expecting it this time. However, it was as loud as a firework display going off in our room. The more the fart kept going, the more he raised his long leg, effectively adjusting the sound and the tone of the fart, going from lower to higher pitched. 

After I took a good look of his denim ass, I then turned directly to him: he was visibly pushing one out, with a smirk drawn on his face; he looked back at me and smiled, winking at me as the fart still echoed in the room, easily surpassing the sounds coming from the TV, which could very well be set on mute at this point.

This wasn't an elevator, so no way I was gonna stop him this time.

The already long and impressive 15 seconds fart ended with a series of 4 loud toots, which sounded a bit more difficult to properly push out, judging by Dave’s facial expressions; but still, my friend still managed to do it effortlessly, once again showing off this impressive talent. Furthermore, and this goes without saying, the stench hit my face pretty soon, as an invisible gas cloud engulfed our bed. I could basically tell what Dave had for dinner without even taking a deep whiff.

Finally, my friend’s ass went silent. Dave adjusted his position and laid down normally next to me, laughing.

“Dude” I said, trying not to laugh myself “I didn’t mean that kind of fireworks.” 

Dave was visibly puzzled, but amused. I thought he was messing with me but apparently he did misinterpret my words for real.

“Ahah I’m sorry man.” he apologized. “Well it’s not like you mind anyway, don’t you?” 

I just remained silent in front of the truth, doing my best to focus on my phone instead, but Dave obviously wasn’t done, as another loud fart erupted, making the entire bed shake.

I was horny as hell, but I just didn’t know how to act while the second blast was being ripped next to me. I wanted to plant my face into his ass but I didn’t want to take advantage of my friend being so chill about my kink. Plus it’s not like he doesn’t fart in my face; in fact, I’d even say that he facefarts me way too often!

The fart was just as loud as the previous one, if not louder. It was all natural, powered by the dinner we had and the gallons of alcohol he ingested. The smell was there, but Dave’s main treat for me was his ability to rip such long and loud farts so often: he will never cease to amaze me.

12 seconds, a bit shorter than the first one, but still a sight to sore eye… and nose, mostly.

“Alright. I’m gonna get ready to sleep.” he casually said, as he left the bed. “You can still watch the TV if you want, just don’t watch anything too loud.”

I snapped back to reality. “You have the audacity to tell me not to be loud?” 

He laughed, knowing exactly what I was referring to.

“But that’s fine, I’m too tired anyway.” 

We both changed at the same time, slipping into something more comfortable, which consisted in a generic white shirt and sweatpants, for me at least. The room was warm enough so Dave slept shirtless and only wore a pair of black boxers brief, a boxer that, just like his socks, did sport a silly pattern, this time with stars.

I went to brush my teeth and then slipped under the blankets, with my friend joining mere minutes later.

“Goodnight bro.” he said, clapping his hands 2 times, hoping the lights would magically turn off.

Surprisingly enough, the lights did turn off, truly a fancy hotel!

“No fucking way.” we both said, as if we witnessed something that happens once in a lifetime.

They didn’t exactly turn off however, but rather went dim, so I could still kind of see what’s going on. It was dark enough to sleep however, as both me and my bro prefer to sleep in darkness.

Now I felt truly tired, so I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.

As expected, however, my friend wasn’t done talking; well, his ass certainly wasn’t.

I felt its vibrations immediately, as a muffled powerful rip made the bed shake. 

“Still?” I said, pretending to be as annoyed as I could.

“Shhh.” Dave cut me off, his index finger up, basically inviting me to listen to what his butt had to say.

Indeed, the ass was very talk and the fart was indeed impressive, deep-sounding and, well, manly. Despite being muffled, I could perfectly hear it. Fortunately, the stench was trapped under the blankets, like a bed-sized tuna can. My gassy friend knew it, so the bastard, with a deft movement, pullet the blanket all over me, trapping me in the metaphorical tuna can. 

Now I could hear and feel the flatulence properly, as Dave slightly lifted his ass a bit to ease the blast out, which was still going by the way. It felt like my friend trapped me in a queen-sized cage with a wild, roaring beast. The stench also hit me like a truck and every breathe I took made me taste what we had for dinner again. I tried to move, to get out, but Dave had a firm grip on the blanket covering me and he made sure I inhaled every particle of gas he was ripping.

The dutch oven maneuver knows no mercy...

18 seconds and the long fart was finally done. My friend simply laughed but still didn’t let me go.

“If you can handle my boss, I’m sure you can handle... this.” he joked.

Another loud fart erupted, this time "short", 4 seconds, but one of the loudest of the night so far.

In the dark of the dimly-lit room and under the blanket, I could still see his boxer-clad ass, hugging his butt tightly, a very thin layer of fabric enduring incredibly powerful blasts. I'm surprised he didn't tear a hole through his underwear with such raw, powerful farts!

It’s like he knew I was staring, because he moved closer to me, his ass now touching my leg, dangerously close to where my crotch is. 

Now I was the one shaking under Dave’s power, as my friend started farting on me. The fart being ripped so close to my boner was a surreal experience and I felt like my dick was gonna blow, as if it was being struck by an earthquake that it couldn’t endure. Loud, long and proud, my bro’s farts never disappoint. Whether kinks are involved or not, one can only bow to such incredible skills.

My friend still kept me under the blanket as he filled the bed with poisonous gas. I started to cough, which only made Dave laugh like a jerk in response.

This one fart lasted around 9 seconds, but even though the ass was done talking, Dave still kept me under there, making my nostrils burn. He wasn’t directly farting in my face, but somehow this felt worse, stench-wise. There really was no way the gas could get out of that gas chamber made of blankets and I struggled to breathe. 

Now my bro showed off by ripping a quick series of loud, short toots, probably yet another big fart that he’s trying to rip in small doses, further proof of how “crafty” he could be when it came to fart-control.

“You know what…” he said, as the fart stopped.

I could feel he letting the blanket go, so I could easily get out of that gas chamber… but I didn’t want to, because I’m a mess and I wanted to see what Dave had in store for me for this torture.

He adjusted his position and, making sure my head was still under the blankets, he turned his whole long body around, wrapping his legs around my chest and face, fully planting his boxer-clad ass on my cheek. Oh, the pattern was made of hearts, not stars, how peculiar...

I instinctively sniffed and obviously the ass was warm and raunchy, given how much my friend has been farting. However, that wasn’t enough, as I felt him push, resuming the previous fart where it left off, this time however ripping it all at once, not in small doses like before. I just accepted it, I was basically Dave’s fart slave at this point and I didn’t mind. I just appreciated how chill he was, feeling like I was living the most beautiful dream (and nightmare, somehow).

The fart stopped after about 11 seconds.

As my face was completely planted in my friend’s ass, I even struggled to speak.

“I mean… we are in room 669 after all.” I said, trying to make an obvious joke.

I could hear Dave appreciate my dry sense of humor. “Ni-Nice.” he laughed, and then treated me with another quick blast which truly tested my eardrums, other than my nostrils.

Finally, it looked like he was done, as he laid next to me like a normal person. He even lifted the blanket, because I was too horny to do anything apparently. In the dimly-lit room, I could still see his usual smirk as he stared at me, amused by how much of a weirdo I am… or rather by how weirdos we both are in a way.

In terms of stench, the situation outside of that gas chamber wasn’t that different, but it was probably because my nostrils absorbed so much gas that it was impossible for me to sniff anything else, for a while at least.

“You still have to buy us beers though.” Dave said. “This doesn’t count as a celebration.”

“You sure?” I promptly replied. “I did hear the fireworks.”

“Yeah.” he said. “And you sure smell like one.” he cackled.

He then turned his back to me and went to sleep, wishing me goodnight as if he didn’t just rip tons of farts in the face of someone who has a fart kink. As usual, I wanted to thank him, but ironically enough he seemed more annoyed by me being thankful than my fetish, so I just relaxed, trying to ignore my massive boner, and went to sleep myself.

A couple of hours ago, Dave’s boss asked me what are some of my strengths: if “being able to endure my straight bro’s powerful farts” is considered a legit strength, then I’m gonna be CEO of The Company by next week.

End of Episode 23

[qqueenofhades]

I know this is an incredibly vague/general question, but I basically everything that generally is discussed with regard to the aids epidemic is with gay men specifically. I’m in high school and watching the movie And The Band Played On in my science class and it focuses a bit on the medical side of the epidemic but there’s really no reference in terms of what happened on the lesbian side of things in anything that I’ve learned or heard about, this movie or otherwise. Which is really weird, but also it’s survivorship bias at play and honestly in many ways I feel awful for being a queer person who’s so divorced from the community’s history, if that makes sense, and I don’t even know where to start or what to do.

I know this is kinda just me rambling without any sort of exact question but honestly just like, where to start with learning history? What can I do myself to educate myself about the community, about our history, about how to not be a “dumb baby gay” as I’ve heard us labeled, if that makes sense.

Anyway seriously thank you for the information and for your time in looking at this!

The role lesbians played during the AIDS crisis was mostly one of caring and advocating (at truly heroic levels) for afflicted gay men, but some of them did also die from it. To learn more, here are some resources for you to check out:

Women and the AIDS Crisis - Yale University Library Online Exhibitions

Unsung Heroes: Lesbian Activists in the AIDS Epidemic in North Carolina and California, 1981-1989 - Maggie Shackleford, College of William and Mary

Lesbian 'Blood Sisters' were a crucial part of the battle against AIDS in the 1980s - GCN

Locating Lesbian and Feminist Responses to AIDS, 1982-1984 - Jennifer Brier, Women's Studies Quarterly

Looking Back: The AIDS Epidemic - SF LGBT Center

It's A Sin and the Forgotten Women of the AIDS Crisis - Retrospect Journal

Lesbians on the Front Lines: Meet the Queer Women Who Cared for People With AIDS During the Epidemic's Height - The Body

The Women Who Fought AIDS - 'It Was Never Not Our Battle' - Vice

Fire Eating Lesbians And AIDS Activism in 1990s San Francisco - Oxford University

How Lesbians' Role in the AIDS Crisis Brought Gay Men and Women Together - Kira Brekke, Huffington Post

[goldenrotations]

To Ms. Marin:

I return to your askbox to inform you that I have received an anonymous tip about a group of salmon runners (likely freelancers) who have been conspiring to commit multiple major crimes on behalf of Grizzco Industries.

But most importantly, I would like to discuss the entity known as Mitralypsis as soon as you are available. From what I could gather, it is steadily encroaching upon us, and with Salmonid-related tensions running higher than ever following recent events, there does not seem to be much time left to prepare. I wish to help defeat it in any way possible. -S

Thank you for this information, we at Grizzco, find this very concerning and will launch a full investigation as soon as possible to try can rat out these conspires.

Grizzco Industries does not condone any acts of terror or conspiracies. We wish to bring the people safety, not fear.

As for your second request, I can meet up with you to discuss the threat of Mitraphysis. Would you prefer to meet me at Grizzco’s headquarters or a location of your choosing?

[ @unsung-scrolls ]

[darlingstardust-fics]

I can't get the thought of a sort of royal au with the Oak family...

Like please tell me if this is absolutely batshit but I am thinking about instead of Lark needing to stab Henry since he is the unsung hero, Henry goes back to the Forgotten Realms to lead Oakvale with his family and the dads are split up in a way. DA.D.D.I.E.S still is made but Henry is taking care of things on the other side.

Idk where it would go, but I'm like half thinking of the pretty scenery with such a lovely quiet location, Henry having difficult thoughts needing to be in Oakvale and lead, something he never wanted to do as a teenager but now has to do as an adult to keep peace. I just think it would make for something interesting

Bonus if Lark and Sparrow are still treated the same way by him and Lark is able to get away with murder so to speak and Sparrow is the one forced to marry to keep some diplomacy or something

Dunno. Thoughts??

[scotianostra]

The Scottish Suffragette Agnes Henderson Brown was born on April 12th 1866 in Edinburgh.

The term ‘suffragette’ was invented in 1906 by that bastion of everything bad, the Daily Mail, as meant to be a belittling epithet, but the women turned it around and adopted it as a badge of honour.

Nannie Brown, as she later became known as was born at 125 Princes Street, which is slap bang opposite the Castle. The street in those days would have been mainly a residential one, as it was meant to be in the plans for the New Town, George Street was meant to be the main shopping area.

Their father was interested in social and political reform and the house became a centre of cultural activity. The Dad ran a number of fruit shops under the title of William Brown & Sons he trained his daughters, Agnes and Jessie, well and refused to submit to laws that he objected to, he was an activist for women’s rights. His opposition to taxes that differentiated between genders caused him to end up in the notorious Calton Gaol in Edinburgh.

Agnes and her sister Jessie were among the first women to be seen on bicycles in Scotland. The safety bicycle was the direct ancestor of today’s machines. With a slight adaptation they attracted thousands of women to cycling and some historians point to the safety bicycle as the beginnings of suffrage, women’s rights and feminism.

Nannie and Jessie were known to heckle parliamentary candidates at meetings, Nannie was also a writer of stories, lectures, plays and articles. She was a member of The Scottish Women's Rural Institute, as she grew older and unable to participate as much in demonstrations, her house in Castle Street became a haven for the SWRI who would seek out advice from her. They would hold ‘Scots evenings’ or ‘Dickens evenings’, at which stories, songs, and sketches were performed.

She also participated in societies such as the Edinburgh Dickens Fellowship, learned to type, this might seem trivial, but women were marginalised back then, hence the suffrage movement sprung up to right these things, it was said in an obituary the Nannie was the first woman to learn to type in all of Scotland.

Nannie Brown died on 1st December 1943 at 3 Blackford Road, Edinburgh and is buried beside her parents at The Dean Cemetery, sadly Wiki reports that the grave has been vandalised and is not the easiest to locate, I must try and seek it out the next time I am on a wander down that way.

The third pic is from Ste[hen Dickson at Chaos Project who seek to remember unsung or undersung heroes and especially heroines whose graves are lost or forgotten. Go have a look at the page, it’s not been updated for a while, but has some interesting posts, they don’t go into detail, but one that caught my eye was “ Remembering the 115,000 unmarked graves in St Cuthbert's Churchyard “

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog 1: AKA I'm already ronik'ing it during the intro

To start off my dissection of this show: I've never really noticed it before, but the tower (a reoccurring location in the show. like in the ballet episode) is actually within city walls, which is quite interesting. It seems to be the same lake as in Dofus MMO, though by game's times, it's outside inner city walls.

Also, the zaap gate is still in the center of the city. Man I love noticing Details.

EXCEPT I LIED. The city actually mostly doesn't have any walls in the show. This isn't a continuity error. This is the beauty of slightly inaccurate OPs.

The fact that this version of Astrub didn't make it into the game during the revamp is actually heartbreaking.

(Concept art of how it could have looked, straight from Ankama's site.)

Anyway, I find it very amusing that Simone came here while sleeping in the baggage department.

NEVER forget that Kerubim and Joris live in a bad neighborhood. Maybe that's why he doesn't really have friends besides Tatak. Maybe it's bad because all the adventurers are there. Who knows!

[TRANSLATION FROM AMAKNEAN FONT: MAISON DE NERUBIM CREPIN] Ha they have a typo in here.

The flash frames of this show are actual unsung heroes. Reason №999 for why Wakfu is bad and Dofus is a good. Et cetera, et cetera.

[viratsteelspecial-blog]

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[fastrateauto23]

Car Brake Service Costs: What to Expect and How to Budget

When was the last time you thought about your car’s brakes? If you’re like most people, probably not until they started acting up. But let’s face it—your brakes are the unsung heroes of your car. They keep you safe by helping you stop when you need to. Understanding what goes into brake service costs can save you from sticker shock and help you plan your budget better. So, let’s dive into what you need to know.

Understanding Brake Service

What Does a Brake Service Include? Brake service isn’t just about slapping on new pads and calling it a day. It’s a detailed process that ensures your car stops efficiently. Typically, it involves inspecting the brake pads, rotors, and callipers.

Brake pads: These are the most commonly replaced part and are responsible for gripping the rotors to slow your car.

Rotors: These are the metal discs that the brake pads clamp down on to create friction.

Calipers: These house the brake pads and press them against the rotors when you hit the brake pedal.

Some services may also include flushing the brake fluid, adjusting the parking brake, or inspecting the brake lines.

Signs Your Car Needs Brake Service Not sure if your brakes need attention? Here are the red flags:

Squeaking or grinding noises: These often signal worn-out brake pads.

Reduced responsiveness: If your brakes feel “soft” or take longer to engage, it’s time for a check-up.

Vibrations while braking: This might mean warped rotors.

Dashboard indicators: Some cars have a brake warning light that comes on when there’s an issue.

Don’t ignore these signs—they’re your car’s way of telling you it needs help.

Factors Influencing Costs

Type of Brake Components Did you know the type of brake parts you choose can significantly affect costs? Original Equipment Manufacturer (OEM) parts are pricier but often last longer and perform better. On the flip side, aftermarket parts are cheaper but may not offer the same quality or longevity.

Labor Charges and Location Where you live can also impact labor costs. Urban areas with higher costs of living tend to have pricier mechanics. Plus, labor-intensive services like replacing rotors or calipers can add hours—and dollars—to your bill.

Additional Repairs Brake service isn’t always straightforward. Sometimes, mechanics find other issues, like damaged rotors that need resurfacing or replacement. These unexpected repairs can inflate your final bill.

Typical Brake Service Costs

Let’s talk numbers. Here’s a rough idea of what you might spend on common brake services:

Brake pad replacement: $100 to $300 per axle.

Rotor replacement: $200 to $400 per axle.

Calliper replacement: $300 to $800 per axle.

Keep in mind these are averages. Luxury cars or high-performance vehicles can cost significantly more.

How to Budget for Brake Services

Saving Strategies Want to save money? Start with preventative maintenance. Regular inspections can catch minor issues before they become costly repairs. Look for coupons or promotions from local auto repair shops. Some shops even offer lifetime warranties on brake pads, which can be a game-changer.

When to Invest More Sometimes, it’s worth spending extra for high-quality parts, especially if you drive a lot or carry heavy loads. Cheaper parts might save you now but could cost more in the long run if they wear out quickly or don’t perform well.

Conclusion

Car Brake services in Milwaukee are crucial to your safety, and taking care of them shouldn’t break the bank. By understanding the factors that influence costs and planning your budget, you can ensure your car stays in top shape without financial stress. Remember, staying proactive with maintenance can save you a lot of money—and headaches—down the road. So, are your brakes ready for the road ahead?

First Rate Auto

5424 W State St, Milwaukee, WI 53208, United States

+14147743738

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