#business cricket products

[heritageposts]

Ask an older generation of white South Africans when they first felt the bite of anti-apartheid sanctions, and some point to the moment in 1968 when their prime minister, BJ Vorster, banned a tour by the England cricket team because it included a mixed-race player, Basil D’Oliveira. After that, South Africa was excluded from international cricket until Nelson Mandela walked free from prison 22 years later. The D’Oliveira affair, as it became known, proved a watershed in drumming up popular support for the sporting boycott that eventually saw the country excluded from most international competition including rugby, the great passion of the white Afrikaners who were the base of the ruling Nationalist party and who bitterly resented being cast out. For others, the moment of reckoning came years later, in 1985 when foreign banks called in South Africa’s loans. It was a clear sign that the country’s economy was going to pay an ever higher price for apartheid. Neither of those events was decisive in bringing down South Africa’s regime. Far more credit lies with the black schoolchildren who took to the streets of Soweto in 1976 and kicked off years of unrest and civil disobedience that made the country increasingly ungovernable until changing global politics, and the collapse of communism, played its part. But the rise of the popular anti-apartheid boycott over nearly 30 years made its mark on South Africans who were increasingly confronted by a repudiation of their system. Ordinary Europeans pressured supermarkets to stop selling South African products. British students forced Barclays Bank to pull out of the apartheid state. The refusal of a Dublin shop worker to ring up a Cape grapefruit led to a strike and then a total ban on South African imports by the Irish government. By the mid-1980s, one in four Britons said they were boycotting South African goods – a testament to the reach of the anti-apartheid campaign. . . . The musicians union blocked South African artists from playing on the BBC, and the cultural boycott saw most performers refusing to play in the apartheid state, although some, including Elton John and Queen, infamously put on concerts at Sun City in the Bophuthatswana homeland. The US didn’t have the same sporting or cultural ties, and imported far fewer South African products, but the mobilisation against apartheid in universities, churches and through local coalitions in the 1980s was instrumental in forcing the hand of American politicians and big business in favour of financial sanctions and divestment. By the time President FW de Klerk was ready to release Mandela and negotiate an end to apartheid, a big selling point for part of the white population was an end to boycotts and isolation. Twenty-seven years after the end of white rule, some see the boycott campaign against South Africa as a guide to mobilising popular support against what is increasingly condemned as Israel’s own brand of apartheid.

. . . continues at the guardian (21 May, 2021)

[sara-scribbles]

The Littlest Dragon (Part 2)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader Summary: Your quiet life as a herbalist is disrupted when you take in an injured dragon Word Count: 7,251 Notes: I might write a part 3 as an epilogue. Hope you enjoy! Warnings: None

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

With no word from Riddle, you go about your life as usual. Unfortunately, Tsunotarou is unable to accompany you on your trips into town due to his sudden growth. Though he gives you sad puppy dog eyes, you firmly tell him to stay home. He’s also a lot heavier so trying to carry him would be too difficult. Though you feel bad, you heed Riddle’s warning of keeping him out of sight.

It is a bit lonely without having his constant presence while you shop, but you quickly get used to it once more. Browsing the shelves at Sam’s, you grab a new mortar and pestle. Turning down another aisle, you nearly collide with another person.

“I’m so sorry!” you apologize quickly.

“Maître herboriste!” You recognize the voice immediately before even seeing his face. 

Rook Hunt in all his feather hat glory, smiles widely at you. “Hello, Rook,” you greet. A bit eccentric, you know him through Vil.

He points to your loaded basket. “Shopping for supplies?”

“I’ve worn out my mortar and pestle, so I thought I’d get a new one,” you explain. You note his basket is filled with top of the line beauty products.

“Always so busy, Maître herboriste! I hear you have a little assistant, no?” The glimmer in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Sighing, you nod. “Yes, I do have an assistant. No, you cannot hunt him.”

He gasps dramatically, hand flying over his heart. “I would never ask something like that! I just wish to…observe him a little closer than from the trees.”

“Trees?” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale sharply before exhaling. “Have you been spying?”

“Non! Not spying, just observing.” His bright smile does nothing to make you feel better.

Now you’re starting to realize why Tsunotarou spent a lot of time glaring out the window as of late. He most likely sensed Rook and saw him as an unknown threat. And here you thought he’d liked watching the hens.

Heaving another weary sigh, you shake your head. “I don’t think coming would be a good idea. At least not alone. If Vil needs to drop by, you’re welcome to join.” Saying ‘no’ to Rook is useless. He’d just continue his spying or try something even more extreme if he really felt like it.

“Oh, so thoughtful of you! You truly are so très gentil!” He beams brightly.

After a few more compliments and praises, you manage to buy what you need and leave the shop. Rook can be a bit exhausting at times, but he means well. You just hope Tsunotarou doesn’t decide to roast him the moment he walks through the door.

---

You wake up suddenly from an odd dream. Yet, the moment you try to remember, it disappears. The feeling of the dream remains. Rolling over on your side, you reach for Tsunotarou but are met with nothing. Sitting up, you glance at the open window. Though you leave it open for him in case he ever wants to go out, you do sometimes worry. Sure he’s a dragon and can probably fend for himself, but you still remember how he looked when you first found him.

Getting out of bed, you head downstairs. Taking a quick peek out the window, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. The full moon hangs low in the sky, illuminating the quiet night. Heading out the garden, you inhale the scent of moist grass and crisp air. It’s warm with a slight breeze, a nice night stare at the stars.

Sitting down on the bench swing in the back of the garden, you have a view of the cottage and the rows of plants growing. You idly swing your legs back and forth causing the bench to gently sway. The soft chirping of crickets and buzzing of insects fills the air. Fireflies lazily float by, giving the night an ethereal glow.

So distracted by the sight, you miss the approach of someone until they’re nearly standing a few feet away. Stiffening, you halt the lazy movements of the swing. Looking at the uninvited guest, you realize he’s the naked stranger from last time. Thankfully not naked this time.

He’s wrapped in a long black cloak that matches the inky color of his hair. Sharp, almost glowing peridot eyes gaze down at you. Your gaze lingers on the pointed ears and horns atop his head. His pale skin glows under the moon, almost making him seem ghostly.

“H-hello?” you greet, hesitantly. Unsure what else to say, you at least want to break the staring contest.

He smiles, flashing sharp incisors. “Hello, child of man. What brings you out?” His voice is smooth and low, like a warm whisper.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” you answer truthfully. “What are you doing here?” What you really want to ask is why he’s in your garden. It isn’t because you’re afraid, no he doesn’t give that sort of aurora. You’re genuinely curious why he’s here again. And since he’s not naked, your freak-out meter is low.

He gestures to the garden. “It’s very peaceful here at night. I thought I’d take a walk.” Pointing to the bench, he asks, “May I sit?”

You could say no. You really should say no. He’s a complete stranger, who you first saw in the nude. However, you nod and scoot over. The bench swing dips at the added weight. He quietly tips his head back to stare at the stars.

Leaning back, you observe the night sky. It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just enjoy nature. Potions and salves keep you busy enough. By the time night comes, you’re dead on your feet. Though with the extra help, you aren’t so tired anymore. Having Tsunotarou around has made your life easier. And less lonely. 

You didn’t realize how lonely you actually felt until he showed up. Sure Ace and Deuce visited sometimes, but it wasn’t often. You did correspond with some other people through letters, but it didn’t make up for the lack of physical contact. Though he can’t respond in words to what you say, he understands. He does his best to let you know he’s listening. 

“You seem to be deep in thought, child of man,” the stranger interrupts.

Realizing he’s now staring at you intently, you sit up straighter. “Just thinking about stuff…”

“What sort of ‘stuff’ may I ask?” His tone is gentle and curious. 

Looking away, you wonder if you’re really going to tell a stranger your worries. However, you don’t take much time to spill. “I recently made friends with…someone. And I realize now that as much as I enjoy my solitude, I was lonely. It’s funny how spending time with someone can change your views so quickly.”

He nods sagely. “Sometimes it only takes a little change to open our eyes.” Glancing at him, he seems to be lost in his own thoughts.

You continue, “I’ve gotten so comfortable with his presence that I’m afraid of what will happen when he leaves. Everyone has to leave at some point. And someone like him probably needs a change in scenery.”

“And have you asked this person if he wants to leave?” he asks, gaze once more focused on you.

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. “That would be easier than needless worry, wouldn’t it?”

“He did say humans can be very convoluted about their desires,” he muses.

An eyebrow goes up. “Oh?” Not sure who he’s referring to, you’re somewhat offended. But there’s truth in his words.

He nods but flashes what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “But I can say you are not like that.”

“How do you know that? We’ve just met! For all you know I could be the worst human you’ll ever meet,” you half tease. 

He shakes his head. “No, you’re nothing like that.”

It’s almost as if he knows you. But that’s impossible! You’ve never spoken to him until now. The only time you’ve seen him was a month ago when he was standing naked in front of your chicken coop. You’d remember seeing someone as beautiful as him. Unless he’s someone like Rook, who likes to spy from afar. That sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

“How are you so sure?” you ask, curious to see what answer he’ll give.

His bright eyes sparkle. “I just have a good feeling.”

Since he’s not elaborating further, you can only nod. “So, this might sound rude, but you’re not human, right?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “That’s correct. I’m a fae. You may call me whatever you wish.”

You know very little about fae, though you vaguely recall a lesson on them. A species that had many different types, they’re well connected to magic, though some more than others. With their long life span, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if the fae next to you is hundreds of years old. And one more thing you remember is that fae don’t lie. They might twist the truth to fit their needs, but it’s never a lie.

“I’m not the best at giving nicknames, so I’ve been told,” you warn. Eyeing him, you try to wrack your brain for something. However, nothing comes to mind until your gaze settles on his horns. “Hornton!”

There’s a pause as he blinks twice. Then, he bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. “You never cease to surprise me,” he says once he manages to gain his composure.

Shaking your head, you point out, “I did warn you.” But since he doesn’t seem offended by the name you’ve chosen, perhaps your nicknames aren’t so bad.

“It’s a wonderful name,” he reassures. 

There’s a pause before you blurt out, “Why were you naked last time?” You immediately bite  the inside of your mouth. It’s something that’s been bugging you for a while now. 

“Certain circumstances made it so that I had no clothes at that moment,” he answers, not at all bothered.

“So where’d you get your clothes?” Did he steal them from someone’s laundry? Not that you’re too concerned with that. You do prefer him covered as you’re pretty sure seeing him naked again wouldn’t be good for your health.

“This was made by magic. Unfortunately my magic is being limited right now, or I would have created something more elaborate. And this won’t last for very long.” He plucks at the black fabric, brows creasing.

So he’ll be naked. Again. Covering your face with both hands, you mutter, “So you’re suddenly going to lose your magically made clothes?”

“Something like that.” His tone is nonchalant as if the idea of being naked in front of a stranger isn’t concerning.

This really sounds like a Cinderella moment except it’s way past midnight. A deep sigh escapes your lips. Perhaps fae aren’t as concerned with nudity as humans. Or perhaps it’s just this particular fae.

“Is something the matter?”

You quickly shake your head. “No. All good!” Deciding to take your mind off the topic, you switch gears. “So where’s home?”

“Briar Valley. It’s a small place west of the Queendom of Roses.” You’ve heard of Briar Valley. Though you haven’t traveled since your school days, you have a vague idea of where he’s from.

“It’s noted for its black forest, right?” Something you recall reading about places to visit. You’re not sure if you would want to visit the forest considering it’s said no one comes out.

He nods. “Yes, though I’d suggest against visiting. Humans tend to get lost in the forest unless guided by a fae who knows the area. Even then, some fae can get lost too.”

“Definitely not on my bucket list,” you mumble.

“You should come visit Briar Valley. It’s quite charming. I’d love to show you around.” He grins, eyes glimmering.

Ace and Deuce would probably berate you for this, but they’re not here. “Sure! Traveling isn’t something I’ve thought about, but I wouldn’t mind going away once and awhile. A friend from school, Kalim, has been asking me to visit him in the Scalding Sands. But I always put it off because of work.”

“I’ve only been to the Scalding Sands when I was a child,” he muses. His brows draw together as if trying to recall something. He shakes his head. “I wonder how much has changed since then…”

“We can go together someday.” You can almost hear the duo shouting at you. Maybe you shouldn’t be making deals with a fae. But you’ve always been a bit reckless. You haven’t done anything dumb in a long time.

He smiles. “Wonderful! I can’t wait.”

---

You wake up feeling tired and groggy. Maybe staying up to chat until the sky started turning light wasn’t the best idea. However, it was nice to speak with someone. Your new friend had bid you goodnight once the first rays of light started peeking through the horizon. He promised to visit the next full moon, which you found odd, but chalked it up to fae stuff.

Yawning for the nth time, Tsunotarou chirps worryingly. “I’m okay. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.” You pat his head. “We don’t have much to do today, thankfully. Think I’ll take a nap later.”

However, just as the words leave your mouth, there’s a sharp knock at your door. “Bonjour, Maître herboriste! Vil and I wanted to pay you a visit.” You sigh as you recognize Rook right away. He doesn’t even need to complete the sentence and you know it’s him.

Tsunotarou bristles. “It’s okay,” you reassure. “They’re friends. No need to set anyone on fire. I know Rook has been spying, but he doesn’t mean any harm.” You hold your hands out in a stop motion. He settles down a little, but his eyes remain narrowed.

Opening the door, you give the two what you hope is a pleasant smile. “Hello, you two. I didn’t think you’d be coming around today.”

Vil sighs. “I’ve been working with Riddle, but I decided I needed to see the dragon for myself. And you know why Rook is here.”

Said huntsman gives you a cheery wave. “Oh! Is that the magnificent creature?!” Spotting Tsunotarou from over your shoulder, you step aside to let the two in.

Rook makes a beeline for him. “Simply magnifique! He’s gotten even bigger than last time!” While Rook is busy studying Tsunotarou from all angles, Vil examines him from afar. 

“He is a sight,” the guild master murmurs. “From Riddle’s description, the measurements are off. Though he did mention that the creature seems to be growing in size. How much has he grown since the last time?”

Scratching your head, you shrug. “Not sure. I don’t keep track, but he does seem a little larger than yesterday.” Maybe ‘a little’ is an understatement. His head reaches your shoulder when he’s sitting on the floor. You woke up to him taking up half the bed.

“I do sense the magic. It’s as potent as Riddle said. This won’t be easy and we might not be able to do anything,” Vil tells you. His attention is momentarily taken away as he leans in closer to your face.

You inch back under his scrutinizing gaze. “Vil?”

“You have bags under your eyes. What have I told you about getting proper sleep, spudling? Sleep is vital not just so we look refreshed but so we feel refreshed.” He shakes his head. “Tsk, it seems all my lessons on good health have been for naught.”

“I’m sleeping fine, Vil. I just couldn’t sleep last night, that’s all. I promise it’s not a common occurrence.” Eyes darting over to Rook and Tsunotarou, you attempt to turn the conversation away from you. “Anyways, will Riddle be coming over too?”

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warns. “Not today. He has some things with his guild he needs to take care of. I just wanted to come here and take a look at what we’re dealing with. There’s no potion in this world that’ll be able to break a curse of this magnitude.”

Tsunotarou, completely ignoring Rook now, is focused on Vil. The two stare at each other much like the staring contest Riddle had. Vil chuckles. “He’s a smart one. Already assessing if I’m a threat, it seems.”

“Of course! Such a powerful creature recognizes a powerful mage!” Rook pipes in between taking pictures.

“We should head back to the guild. I need to do more research now that I know what we’re dealing with.” He pauses and turns to you, “Can I speak to you outside?”

“I’ll be right back,” you call to Tsunotarou before leading the two outside. Coming to the front gate, Vil stops before glancing back at your cottage. “What’s up?”

In a low tone, he says, “You probably don’t realize this, but that creature in there is dangerous.”

“Aren’t all dragons da-”

He cuts you off. “That’s not what I meant. I’ve seen a few dragons before but none as powerful as this one. The magic radiates off him in waves. I’m not sure if Riddle didn’t notice because of the curse or if something has changed since last time. I’d be careful with him. Dragons are temperamental creatures by nature.”

“Tsunotarou wouldn’t hurt me. At least not intentionally,” you argue. “He’s different and I trust him.”

“Tsk. Still reckless as ever. Just keep what I said in mind.” You can see the concern in his eyes. 

“I’ll be careful,” you promise.

---

“What are these?” Horton asks.

You had handed him a bundle the moment he appeared. “Clothes. I had to guess your size, but I think they’ll fit.”

He seems surprised. “For me?”

“I thought real clothes might be better than magically made clothes that only last for a while,” you explain. 

You had asked Jack for advice on what to get considering you didn’t know his size. He looked to be a little bigger than Jack, so you hoped the bundle the beastman got together would fit. Jack had mumbled something about underwear while looking away, so you can only assume there’s undergarments in the package.

“Thank you, child of man. This is a wonderful gift.” He looks all too pleased to receive a plain white shirt and black pants.

The way he’s looking at you is like you gave him the greatest gift in the world. “They didn’t cost me much, so it’s nothing big.”

“May I put them on?”

“Sure.” The moment those words are out of your mouth, he snaps his fingers and the outfit he was wearing disappears in a flash of green. “A little warning!” you shout, covering your eyes.

There’s a chuckle and you can only imagine the amused look on his dumb face. The rustle of fabric is all you hear. After a few moments, he says, “I am dressed.”

Pulling your hands away, you’re quite pleased to see that the clothes mostly fit. The pants are a little short, coming a little above his ankle. “You look great!”

He holds up a thin white string. “Is this meant to go somewhere?”

Laughing, you take the tie from him. “Come sit.” While he sits down, you hover over him. “It’s mostly for decoration, but you just weave it through the holes up here to make a crisscross pattern.”

Leaning down, you carefully pull the string through the loops of his shirt. After fiddling for a bit to make sure it’s even, you glance up. “Perfect!”

Your eyes meet and you suddenly realize how close to his face you are. “Thank you.”

He’s probably the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Sorry Vil. With long, thick eyelashes that brush against his pale skin, you wonder absently if all fae are as beautiful. Up close, you can even see the specks of darker green in his eyes.

“So pretty,” you whisper.

His eyes widen and there’s a sharp intake of breath. Realizing you just said that aloud, you pull back with a jerk. You suddenly find interest in something far away. “A-anyways, I hope the clothes are comfortable. Cotton is good for this weather even at night. I guess I should’ve gotten you shoes too,” you ramble.

“You’ve already given me so much. Thank you again, child of man.” The way he thanks you is almost reverent. “I wish to return the favor. Is there anything you want?”

Quickly shaking your head, you can’t imagine taking anything from him for something so simple. “No, I don’t need anything.”

He frowns. “Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to return the favor when receiving a gift?”

“Not all gifts require something in return. This is something I wanted to do, so don’t worry about giving me anything.” His brows are still drawn together.

Tilting his head to the side, he studies you. “You’re very strange for a human. Many would jump at the chance to receive a favor from a fae.”

The pressure of his gaze makes you nervous. Looking away, you stare at the grass. “Like you said, I’m a strange human.”

His chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. “Yes, very strange. But that’s what makes you so charming.”

You ignore the fluttering of your heart.

---

Waking up to being half smothered to death by a dragon has become the norm. Tsunotarou has grown so big, your full sized bed is starting to feel too small. At this rate you might need an upgrade. You don’t mind that he’s grown, it’s just waking up because you can’t breathe isn’t the most pleasant.

“I’m pretty sure you're almost as tall as Riddle with his shoes on…” You eye him as he sits patiently on the stool while you stir the cauldron.

Tsunotarou makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not complaining about your sudden growth spurt. Just that we might have an issue with sleeping if you keep getting bigger.” 

You toss in a few dried rosebuds. Stirring clockwise three times, you pour in a handful of pink sand. Tsunotarou drops a jar of fresh newt tails in your outstretched hand. You throw in a handful of those before stirring counterclockwise four times. The concoction bubbles and steams before changing colors.

“Hmm… That should be enough for six bottles.” While you pour the potion into bottles, he corks them before putting them on the table in a neat row.

You’re almost done when you hear loud, angry clucking. Then an even louder voice. “GET OFF YOU FOUL BIRDS!”

Glancing at your dragon companion, he doesn’t seem concerned about the sudden commotion. “Alright, guess we get another guest.” You can’t pinpoint the voice as anyone you know.

Taking a look out your window, you can see the three hens surrounding a very angry looking person. He waves his arms around trying to scare them off, but the three ladies just continue to peck at his boots.

There’s another person standing next to him, but he doesn’t do anything. The more you look, the more you think the silver haired one is sleeping. If he is sleeping, it’s quite a feat to do while on his feet and next to someone shouting.

Deciding to try and save your hens, you step outside. You let out an ear piercing whistle, which causes the green haired to stop his shouting. The one sleeping blinks awake as well. The three hens leave the stranger alone to go back into the coop. Though you note that Merryweather gives his boot one last peck for good measure.

“Can I help you two?” you ask once the hens are gone.

The loud one straightens his outfit before clearing his throat. “WHAT KIND OF HUMAN ALLOWS PEOPLE TO BE ATTACKED BY SUCH VICIOUS BIRDS?!”

You resist the urge to plug your ears. “They tend to not like strangers wandering near their coop. Also, no need to shout.”

He seems to stand up straighter and open his mouth, but the other one quickly intervenes. “We apologize for trespassing. My name is Silver and this is Sebek.”

“DON’T GO GIVING MY NAME TO THE HUMAN, SILVER!” Sebek admonishes.

After a beat, you ask once more, “Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for someone. A signal was sent from somewhere in the area,” Silver explains.

“I’m not in town as often, so I might not be the best person to ask. I’d suggest trying the guilds in town.” You gesture in the general direction of the main road.

Giving you a brief bow, Silver nods. “Thank you.” He turns to his companion. “We should head to town then.”

“Hold on! We might as well ask if the human has seen him. It’s hard not to notice such a magnificent person,” Sebek says, pointing at the human in question. His eyes zero in on you. “Human, have you seen the great Malleus Draconia?”

Your face twisted into something akin to confusion. “Who?”

The green haired one lets out a gasp. He looks equally offended and shocked. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHO THE GREAT MALLEUS DRACONIA IS!?!”

You proceed to plug your ears. Forget about being polite! “Can you stop yelling? And yes, I have no idea who you’re referring to. Like I said, check with the guilds.”

“How can someone not know the glorious young master???” He mutters to himself, not hearing a single word you said.

Giving you an apologetic look, Silver tugs his companion. “Thank you.”

Once they disappear down the road, you go inside. Tsunotarou, who had been peeking through the window, turns to you. He makes a series of grumbles. “I have no idea what that was about.” Shrugging, you go back to your potions.

After packaging everything, you plop down on the sofa with a deep sigh. “I’m already tired and it isn’t even that late.” Huffing, you close your eyes. The sofa dips and extra weight is dropped on your lap. 

Tsunotarou rests his head in your lap while chirping at you. Opening your eyes, you chuckle. “Hey, you.” You affectionately rub his head. Adjusting your position so you’re laying across the sofa, Tsunotarou nestles half on top of you. His tail hangs off the couch and onto the floor.

“Ooof! You’re getting a little too big for this.” With his head resting on your chest, he peers up at you. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just stating a fact. You’ve grown a lot.”

Scratching him around his horns, you can’t help but study them. They remind you of something, but your brain is too tired to figure it out. “Ever since you’ve come into my life, it seems my days aren’t so monotonous. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the quiet and routine. But I’ve come to realize I cherish having you around.”

He gurgles happily. “But you’ll have to leave someday, right? You can’t stay here forever and if you continue to grow, I don’t think the cottage will be enough.” Chuckling to yourself, you’re reminded of the conversation you had with Hornton.

Tsunotarou nudges your cheek with his snout. “Do you want to leave?” you ask. He shakes his head while making a few noises. “I don’t want you to leave either. But I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice. We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

The two of you doze lightly, but a sudden knock on the door sends you tumbling off the couch. Tsunotarou somehow managed to catch himself as he peers down at you. “Who’s visiting at this hour?!” Grunting, you get up and march to the door.

You’re greeted by the two from before. The shorter of the two opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted by his companion with the loud mouth. “HOW DARE YOU LIE TO US, HUMAN!”

“W-what?!” Confused, you look between the two. “Can someone explain what I supposedly lied about. Without yelling.”

“Excuse me!” Riddle shoves his way from the back. You hadn’t even noticed there were more people. Ace and Deuce pop up as well giving you nervous looks.

Riddle holds his hand up to prevent the green one from shouting. “Sorry about that. They came saying they were looking for someone. After they explained what happened, I figured out who it was they’re looking for. And rule 233 states I should escort guests to their desired location.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the accusation.” You’re too tired to be nice.

Shaking his head, Riddle sighs. “They’re looking for him.” He points over your shoulder. All eyes turn to the dragon sitting on the couch.

“Young master!”

“Your highness!”

Sebek pushes his way past you to get inside. Grumbling a few not so nice words under your breath, you allow the rest to come in as well. Sebek falls to his knees in front of the dragon while wailing something incomprehensible.

Silver turns to you. “I apologize for the accusation. Sebek can be a little…excitable when it comes to his highness.”

“Highness? Wait, so Tsunotarou is a prince?!” Angry green eyes turn to you.

“HOW DARE YOU REFER TO HIM WITH SUCH A VULGAR NAME!” Even Riddle looks put out. Seeming to realize his volume, he tones down just a little. “Not only did you kidnap him, but you subjected him to a ridiculous name?!”

Ace and Deuce move to stand in front of you when Sebek advances. “It’s okay guys. I’m not afraid of him.” The two give worried looks as you step forward. “Listen here. I did not kidnap him. I found him unconscious and injured in the woods. I took care of him and he’s been staying with me of his own free will. Tsunotarou is free to leave whenever he wants.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a sharp look. “I don’t appreciate people barging into my house making accusations! So, sit down and use your inside voice or I will kick you out on your ass!”

Ace lets out a low whistle as Sebek stands there slack jawed. “Are we done now?” Riddle asks, having taken a seat during your little speech.

There’s a moment of silence before Silver gives a small cough. “Again, I apologize for everything. We’ve been looking all over for his highness for a while.”

“It’s fine. Let’s sit down and have a civil discussion.” You take a seat on the couch. Tsunoartou sticks to your side despite the forlorn look Sebek gives him.

Once everyone is sitting, you gesture to the two. “So, who are you?”

“As we said before, I am Silver and this is Sebek. We are personal guards for his royal highness, prince Malleus Draconia,” he explains.

Looking at the dragon leaning against your side, you eye him curiously. “So you’re actually a prince?” He gives a nod. “You do know I was joking about the whole cursed prince thing, right?”

He grumbles deep in his throat, seeming not too pleased about something. “Your prince is a small dragon?” Deuce asks, scratching his cheek as he tries to wrap his head around it all.

“Of course not!” Sebek glares at him. “The young master’s true form is much more elegant and refined. Even his real dragon form is better than this! Not that you humans would understand the beauty of fae.”

“So how did he end up like that?” Ace pipes in.

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Silver sighs deeply. “It was punishment from his grandmother for not doing his duty. We didn’t think he would get carried off by a demon crow when we weren’t looking.”

“What kind of person is your grandmother to curse her own grandson? Scary…” It sends a shiver down your spine. His grandmother must be very powerful since both Vil and Riddle said the curse was created with old magic. 

“The curse thing has happened before,” Silver explains, not sounding concerned at all. “Getting lost is new.”

“He’s been living with me for almost a year, and you just decided to search for him?” If he’s a prince, shouldn’t they have been looking for him sooner?

Silver sighs. “The queen assured us that he was fine and ordered us not to search for him. However, a few weeks ago, she told us to find him. I’m not sure why she changed her mind…”

“I assume the one who put the curse on him can take it off? We’ve been studying ways to lift the curse, but haven’t had any luck.” Riddle’s cheeks are puffed out, most likely annoyed that he couldn’t find a way to break the curse himself.

Silver nods. “Yes. We will take him back home so the queen can lift the curse. Though looking at his form, it seems his own magic was working on breaking the curse from within. I’m sure fath-Lilia will be interested to hear this…”

The two stand up. “We need to head back home, immediately!” Sebek announces.

“Right now? But it’s night time. It could be dangerous,” you point out.

“We’ll be fine. We have a charm that will take us directly to the castle,” Silver explains.

“Of course you do.” You can’t delay the inevitable. “Can I have a moment alone with him? Please?”

“Of course. We will wait outside.” Despite Sebek’s protests, the two head out.

Riddle, Ace and Deuce also stand to leave. “I’ll head back to town to let Vil know what happened.”

“We'll be outside if you need us,” Deuce informs you.

Once everyone leaves, it’s just you and Tsunotarou once more. Suddenly a heavy feeling settles on your chest. “You’re leaving… I guess the time has come, Tsunotarou. Sooner than I would like, but you have to go home.”

Sitting up to his full height, he places his front paws on your shoulders. Staring at eye level, he silently conveys his message. Chuckling, you press your forehead against his. Wrapping your arms around his body, you give him a squeeze.

“I’ll see you soon Tsuno-no, that’s not your name. I’ll see you soon, Malleus.” Pulling away, you press a kiss to his forehead. He freezes while his eyes widen. You laugh at his shocked expression. “I just wanted to see if it would work.”

You give him one last hug. You’re not sure when you'll see him again, but you have a feeling you will. You just have to wait.

---

Half a year goes by and things return back to how it was before you found Malleus. The same routine that you once found comfort in feels empty. You go through the motions but none of it really registers. You tell yourself you’ll get back into the groove of things eventually. You’re lying.

Ace and Deuce drop by more often, which you appreciate. Though they don’t say it, they know you’re feeling down. However, they can only stay for so long before they’ll have to find a new commission to take. 

“Hey, do you guys actually know who Malleus Draconia is?” Ace asks one day over breakfast.

Deuce throws him a look, but you wave him off. “It’s fine, Deuce. It’s not like we can’t talk about him. And no, I don't know who he is.”

“He’s the next king of Briar Valley! And he’s considered one of the most powerful mages in the world! Can you believe that someone that scary was living with you?!”

You shrug, not really caring. “To me, he was just Tsunotarou. And even now that I know who he is, I don’t care.”

Ace snorts. “Of course you wouldn’t. Still, can you imagine how powerful his grandmother is? That’s one terrifying family you don’t want to mess with.”

“Though now that you mention it, Briar Valley sounds familiar…” Thoughtful chewing on a piece of bread, you wrack your brain. “Oh! That’s where Hornton is from!”

“Horn-what? Who’s that?” Deuce asks between mouthfuls of food.

Taking a sip of your juice, you nonchalantly reply, “You know the naked stranger I mentioned a long time ago. Turns out he’s from Briar Valley too.”

“Are you asking to be killed? Why would you talk to someone who can’t even wear clothes?!” Ace looks at you like you’ve grown too heads. “And what kind of name is Hornton?”

“It’s a nickname. He didn’t give me his real name so I gave him one.” 

Rolling his eyes, Ace shoves the rest of his breakfast in his mouth. “Yew swuk at maming!” Bits of food fly out of his mouth. You childishly stick your tongue out.

Deuce is quiet before asking, “Have you seen him recently?”

“No. He usually shows up during the full moon, but I haven’t seen him.” You did spend a few full moon nights waiting, but he never came. After a few times, you gave up. “Now that I think about it, he hasn’t shown up since Tsunotarou left…”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“You met one of the most powerful beings in the world and not only did you give him one dumb name, but two?!!”

“I didn’t know!”

Covering your face, you let out a frustrated groan. The table falls silent once more. Then from the redhead in a barely contained laugh, “So, you saw his crown jewels?”

“Ace!” Deuce's face turns bright red.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” There’s a pause before the table erupts into laughter. Sometimes you question your choice of friends, but at times like these, you’re grateful for them.

---

“Do you have everything?” Deuce asks for the umpteenth time.

You adjust the straps to your bag. “Yup! I’ll be back in a few weeks at most. Just don’t burn down my home. Please.”

“I’m not that bad! If anything Deuce will burn down the cottage,” Ace shouts in the background. Merryweather gives his shoe a hard peck. “Evil bird!”

Shaking your head, you turn to Deuce. “I want all my ladies to be here when I get back. Or else.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” he reassures. However, seeing Ace run away from three angry hens does little to relieve your concerns.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

“Go! You got a personal invite from a prince to visit.” He waves you off. “Anyways, Trey will be coming to make sure your house is okay.”

“At least someone responsible will be here,” you mutter. Giving Deuce one last goodbye, you head over to where Sebek and Silver are waiting just outside your front gate. “Be nice to them, Ace!” you shout.

He’s too busy trying to fend off the hens to say much. “They truly are vicious creatures. Are you sure you didn’t train them to attack?” Sebek shudders at the sight of the redhead getting pecked at.

“They’re just overprotective. So, how are we getting to Briar Valley?” With a suitcase and backpack, you’re ready to leave home for the first time in a long time. Malleus’s invitation is safely tucked away in your bag.

Silver produces a small piece of paper from his pocket. You note there are some ruins written on it. “Everyone, hold on to me.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, he rips the paper in half. The ruins light up momentarily, before you’re engulfed in a blinding light.

You blink rapidly, trying to clear the spots dancing in your vision. Once you can see again, you look around. No longer home, you’re standing in front of a gate. A marvelous castle looms above. Despite all the opulence, you’re solely focused on the figure standing on the path leading to the castle.

Pushing through the gate, you rush forward. “W-wait!” You ignore Sebek’s shout.

Stopping just a few feet away, you break out into a grin. “I see you’re wearing clothes this time.”

He returns the smile with one of his own. “I wanted to look my best to greet you. You’re a very important guest after all.”

“Can I give you a hug or is that breaking decorum?” you ask, ignoring Sebek’s sputters of protest.

“Come on, Sebek. Fath-Lilia wanted us to see him right when we returned.” There’s a few words exchanged, but they leave you two alone.

Malleus opens his arms. “I would like that very much.”

Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him. Despite not knowing Tsunotarou and Horton were one and the same until recently, there’s a sense of familiarity. He might not be a scaly black dragon like you’re used to, but he holds the same scent and warmth. His gaze has the same wonder and affection.

He nuzzles the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Pulling away, you take his hand. “Though I do kinda miss your little dragon form,” you tease.

Malleus squeezes your hand. “Perhaps I should ask grandmother to curse me once more?”

“No!” However, you note the way his brows are lifted and his mouth quirks up. “You’re teasing me, right?”

“Of course. I guess I missed the mark on that.” He shakes his head. “Before I can show you around, grandmother would like to meet you.”

“Right now? I’m not even presentable!” This is not what you expected. You’ve only been in Briar Valley for a whole 5 minutes, and now you’re expected to meet the queen!?

Malleus doesn’t seem worried, though. “You look wonderful as always. Come, let us be off.”

Before you can protest, he pulls you to his chest. Arm around your waist, you temporarily lose the ability to think as you’ve never been this close to him before. Well at least not in this form. In a blink, you’re no longer standing outside the castle.

You stand in a large gazebo surrounded by rose bushes as far as the eye can see. They’re all in full bloom. There’s a lot of time and effort put into the garden. You also notice a rather scary looking gargoyle further away. 

Someone hums with interest causing you to turn your attention away from the roses. The only other occupant in the gazebo is a regal looking woman holding a teacup. A table filled with small dishes and a tea set are laid before her. She has the same inky black hair as Malleus, though you note streaks of white in her impeccable style. Her horns are intricately decorated with delicate gold chains studded with gems. Green eyes flash with interest as she sets down the teacup without making a sound.

“Malleus, what a lovely surprise. Who is this?” she asks, eyes never leaving you. Her knowing gaze sees right into your very soul. 

“Grandmother, I’d like to introduce to you (Y/N).” You realize he’s still holding you close to his side. Disentangling yourself for him while stepping away at a respectable distance. You don’t know if you should be bowing. She is the queen after all!

She smiles, revealing shiny, white teeth. You briefly wonder if the smile is meant to be inviting or intimidating. Maybe both. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, little human. My grandson has been talking about you non-stop since he came home. And I must say, you’re as adorable as he described~”

“I-It’s nice to m-meet yo-you too, your highness!” Did she just call you adorable?? Your neck prickles as you suddenly feel too warm.

She stands up, towering over your form. Not only is she intimidating just by her aura but also in height! “Hoho, so formal! You can call me grandmother.”

There’s silence as your brain stutters to a halt. You can hear Malleus let out a deep breath while the queen's laughter echoes in the garden.

Tagging: @starsilluminateourgalaxy @stormyovent0aster @hanafubukki @mscarterakaviola98 @sparkleypancakez @youaskedfurret @yokokai @hajimeseyo @ravenlking @peter-the-pan @enchanted-nerd @nocturneabyss @chaasworld @lechuko @bloomsapphire @amar-farasha @itszzmoon @xlifexdeathx @supernovaicloud @mysterypotatoink @illytian @depressed-bitchy-demon @cheyuma @liquidfurby @bigcandlesmolbrain @thetruepair @chibishae34 @strawberry-soap-bar @sus0daddy @inana-mm @liliaviper @musclefanatica @loivre @chuchotheblackcat @lorkai

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Sassoon and Graves in 1920.

When Robert Graves walked into C Company mess on 28 November 1915 on some errand, he noticed an unexpected book on the table. It was a copy of Post Liminium, a collection of essays by the late nineteenth-century poet Lionel Johnson. The army was not noted for its Lionel Johnson readers; a 'military text-book or a rubbish novel' were more the order of the day. Graves took a discreet look at the name on the flyleaf. A glance round the mess was enough to indicate 'Siegfried Sassoon': the tall, lanky, shy subaltern. Graves, also tall but anything but shy, quickly struck up a conversation. Both being off duty, the two were soon walking into Béthune for cream buns, busy talking poetry. Sassoon and Graves had a good deal in common. Both were conventionally unconventional public school products, trying to turn themselves into competent army officers and into the kind of poets Eddie Marsh would publish in his Georgian Poetry anthologies. Both, anxious about being insufficiently manly, had cultivated a tougher, sportier side: Sassoon through fox-hunting and cricket; Graves through boxing — he had been the school middleweight champion. Both were lonely and in love (Sassoon with David 'Tommy' Thomas, Graves with George 'Peter' Johnstone). Both were almost certainly still virgins. The friendship necessarily developed in fits and starts, and owed some of its intensity to that. Long conversations, the uninterrupted exchange of poems and confessions, were a rare luxury. Graves gave Marsh a humorous but probably not very misleading account of their difficulty 'in talking about poetry and that sort of thing': 'If I go into his mess and he wants to show me some set of verses, he says: "Afternoon Graves, have a drink… by the way, I want you to see my latest recipe for rum punch."' He also made it pretty clear to Marsh that it was not just poetry they had to be careful about discussing openly: 'I don't know what the CO would say if he heard us discussing the sort of things we do… His saying is that "there should be only one subject for conversation among subalterns off parade." I leave you to guess it.' There was obviously a secret thrill in these surreptitious exchanges, a sense that Graves and Sassoon were like two naughty schoolboys, hoodwinking their peers and those in authority.

— Harry Ricketts, Strange Meetings: The Poets of the Great War (2010)

[cambion-companion]

Dinner Date

Sorry I haven't written in a while! I have several anon asks requesting something small for a dinner date with Raphael, inspired no doubt by the lovely Mr. Wincott's contribution in the livestream!

With a little twist because I haven't explored what it would be like delivering the crown to the cambion.

"What could be more exquisite than watching the hero of Baldur's Gate walk to me, fresh in the moonlight." Raphael leaned forward in his seat, the cool night air and cricket song belaying the tension in his taught frame.

He smiled as you approached and sat at the wooden table, the warm brown eyes of his human guise sparkling in the candlelight. "You've proven to be quite the asset, my dear. A fortuitous investment, indeed."

"Raphael." You greeted, your stomach doing obnoxious flips as it always did in his presence. "I brought you a little souvenir, as I'm sure you already know."

"Indeed I am." Raphael purred, his eyes scanning you person with keen intent. "I had front row seats, as it were. Your victory was marvelous. You played your part well."

You grunted, not flattered by the way he treated it all like an elaborate theater production. You hefted the wrought iron crown out of your bag of holding and placed it, glittering, upon the table.

The weight of such an artifact drew both your gazes, and all that could be heard for several moments was a soft zephyr stirring the trees and the sound of frogs and crickets harmonizing to the summer night.

The candle sputtered in the breeze and you looked to Raphael only to find his eyes already locked on your face.

He spoke with an intensity you'd not yet become familiar with. "Well done." He swirled deep red wine in his crystal chalice. "I wish you'd reconsider becoming business partners."

"You say it like we'd be equals." You scoffed, knowing full well he'd love nothing more than to gain your soul for his collection. You shook your head and took a sip of your own drink. "I think not, Raphael. As much as I like you, I'm not that stupid."

"I'd be disappointed if you gave in easily." Raphael raised a hand and the crown vanished in a swirl of golden embers, their brief light reflected in your widened eyes. "I do so enjoy the chase, and you are such a lush prize."

You have the cambion a wry smile, a touch of fondness to the curl of your lips. "I'll admit, it would be disappointing if after this we never saw each other again."

Raphael nodded and beckoned a waiter, never removing his gaze from your face. He looked for all the world like the cat who got the cream. "What is the phrase you mortals are so fond of? Ah, yes." He gestured grandly as he spoke, illustrating his words with his hands. "I fully intend on having my cake, and I will eat it too."

Later that same night, Raphael had whisked you away back to his House of Hope. You'd expressed mild displeasure at being taken back to Avernus but he'd quelled your complaints with a look.

Raphael reclined in a grand chair, almost a throne in appearance, his leg crossed over the other. His human skin had been shed in favor of his larger, sharper devil form. He raised two fingers, snapped them, and conjured the crown of Karsus to float between where you stood and he sat.

"Now we are somewhere more appropriate, I require you to complete our contract."

You pursed your lips together, knowing the answer before you spoke the question. "How, exactly?"

Raphael paused for dramatic effect. When he spoke next it was a command, not a request. "Crown me."

The crown felt cold and heavy in your hands when you took it, the weight extending to your very soul as you approached where Raphael sat.

You slowly lifted it and placed the intricate metal piece gently onto his heady, being careful to accommodate for the thorny spiral of his horns. It slid perfectly atop his dark hair, you couldn't help but admire the way it looked. "As though it was made for you." You said aloud, not noticing the words come out of your mouth.

A large, clawed hand cupped the back of your neck, hellfire eyes burning into you. "As surely as your very soul was for me." Raphael purred and dragged you down for a searing kiss.

[thecatholicbozo]

Holy Silence in Daily Life

"Retirement is the laboratory of the spirit; interior solitude and silence are its two wings. All great works were prepared in the desert, including the redemption of the world." A.G. Sertillanges, OP, The Intellectual Life ================================================

I'm starting to realize I need to cultivate more silence in my life, especially in the evenings after work. I like staying productive, like listening to podcasts or lectures or audiobooks as I do chores or work on my hobbies, because I really do love learning (and it's a good way of making the chores more enjoyable).

But I think sometimes those things become a distraction if not done in moderation, even when they're beneficial & enjoyable. It takes me away from the task I am doing, as if my body was in one place & my mind was in another. It heightens a sense of "busy-ness" & being occupied, as if something has to always be happening.

Tonight, I was wrapping up some Warhammer painting when a chapter of an audiobook ended, and I chose to paint the remainder in silence, with just the noise of the crickets outside & my clock ticking. Those few minutes were profoundly refreshing, moreso than any of the things I was listening to (or even reading). It felt like I was so much more in the moment & open to God's activity than at almost any other point in the last couple of weeks. It felt like I was really engaged with Creation rather than merely "getting things done."

Abyssus abyssum invocat -"Deep is calling on deep in the roar of your waters, your billows and all your waves swept over me" (Ps 42:8). There's a real heaviness, a gravity to silence that I think draws us toward God & lets us be overwhelmed with him. When we strip away the rest of life's bustle & distractions, he is waiting in that raw & vulnerable silence. We find the clarity to remember the day's joys & sorrows, to pray for success in tomorrow's endeavors, to pray for our loved ones, and to just be comforted by God in that stillness. It's a reminder that ultimately, God is waiting for us, and reminds us of our purpose & mission as his creatures. And if there is still a busy-ness to our mind, I think silence makes it much more likely we find our way to moments of prayer & contemplation rather than pure distraction.

There's always a flood of new podcasts, album drops, sports broadcasts, and youtube videos to overwhelm our time & attention. But compared to God's majesty, they are just "shallow" calling upon us.

I hope y'all will join me in trying to be less "plugged in" / terminally online, and to try to sanctify some silence in daily life.

[elliesdin0saur]

Sleeping love.

The last of us

pairing: Ellie x fem!reader

summary: Cozy night with Jesse and Dina by the campfire turns into a sweet moment between you and Ellie. As tiredness sets in, Ellie's warmth and care shine through. She lends you her jacket, guides you to sleep and sharing sweet 'I love yous'.

word count: 1K

warnings: none, just fluff!

a/n: enjoy this piece of cute Ellie, also don't be shy to leave a request!

PS: Requests are open lovelies x

The night hung over Jackson like a heavy blanket, and the air was crisp with the scent of burnt wood and pine. You and Ellie sat by a crackling campfire with your friends, Jesse and Dina. The warmth of the flames danced on your faces, creating a cozy spot in the midst of the messed-up world you had lived in. Despite everything going south, laughter echoed through the air, a quick getaway from the tough reality.

Ellie, with her short auburn hair and a glint of mischief in her eyes, sat close to you. The sight of her made you smile, as you comfortably leaned against Ellie, your fingers entwined as you enjoyed the warmth of both the fire and each other.

Jesse and Dina were busy chatting about the best way to cook a rabbit they'd snagged earlier. Ellie, always the stubborn and funny one, jumped in with her comments that left everyone laughing. You, with your contagious giggles, added to the mix of joy around the campfire.

As the night went on, a subtle change started sneaking in. A calm tiredness settled upon you, your yawns showing you were getting sleepy. Ellie, being the observant one, couldn't help but notice the signs of weariness in her girlfriend's eyes.

The flickering flames danced to an unheard melody, casting shadows that played on the tired lines etched on your face.

"Feeling tired, baby?” Ellie asked, a teasing grin playing on her lips. The weariness in your eyes didn't go unnoticed.

You managed a half-hearted nod, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "Maybe a bit."

Without a moment's hesitation, Ellie unzipped her jacket and gracefully slid it off her shoulders. With a tender smile, she draped it over you, you welcomed the warmth with a grateful expression. The jacket, still infused with Ellie's scent, enveloped like a protective cocoon against the cool night air.

"Here, babe. Don't want you catching a chill out here," Ellie said, her voice carrying a gentle concern that spoke volumes about your bond. You mustered a tired but appreciative smile, pulling the jacket snugly around your body. "Thanks Els”.

As the night progressed, the embers of the fire waned, mirroring your diminishing energy. You found herself leaning against Ellie, who welcomed the contact with open arms. Ellie's embrace was a sanctuary, a refuge from the weariness that threatened to consume you soon. The gentle warmth radiating between you was not just a product of the crackling flames; it was a reflection of the genuine affection that had blossomed throughout the months.

The night wore on, and the distant sounds of crickets provided a soothing backdrop. Ellie's fingers traced absentminded patterns on your arm, a silent reassurance that spoke of your unspoken understanding. Despite the fatigue, a quiet contentment settled over you, a shared moment that showed friendship had evolved into something deeper—an unbreakable bond forged through shared laughter, challenging trails, and quiet moments like these.

Your breathing became slower, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest matching the hypnotic dance of the firelight. Ellie, too, felt the exhaustion of the day's struggles, but the warmth of you against her provided a unique comfort that energized her spirit. With a gentle touch, Ellie adjusted the jacket around you, ensuring you were snug and protected. The night air carried a crisp scent of pine, and the distant hooting of an owl. 

Amidst the laughter and chatter of your friends, you gave in to the lull of sleep. Ellie couldn't help but steal glances at you, a fond smile on her lips. She watched as your breathing evened out, the calm look on her face turning the tough reality into a short moment of peace.

Ellie stuck around with her friends a bit longer, not wanting to wake you from the much-needed nap. Jesse and Dina exchanged knowing glances, silently acknowledging the sweet scene unfolding before them. Eventually, the night quieted down, and Ellie knew it was time to take you home.

As Ellie greeted them and carefully maneuvered away from the group, she felt a pang of reluctance to disturb the peace that had settled upon you. Gently lifting your head from her shoulder, Ellie marveled at the way your features softened in slumber. A small, contented sigh escaped out of your lips. Cradling you in her arms, Ellie couldn't help but marvel at the simplicity of finding solace in the person she loved, even if just for a moment.

The walk back to your cabin was a quiet, walking beneath the moonlit canopy of Jackson. Ellie led the way, each step accompanied by the rhythmic rustle of leaves under her boots. You stirred slightly in Ellie's arms, eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before surrendering once more to the embrace of sleep. Ellie smiled down, a silent acknowledgment of the weariness you both carried.

"Almost there, love” Ellie whispered, her voice a gentle murmur. "You can keep snoozin' if you want."

You managed a drowsy smile, nuzzling even 

closer to Ellie. "Mm, comfy. 'S nice."

The cabin's door creaked open under Ellie's careful hand, revealing the dimly lit interior. A lantern cast a warm, golden glow across the small space, transforming it into a haven against the darkness outside. As Ellie laid you on the bed, the tenderness in her touch spoke volumes of how much she cared about you.

The worn blankets, proof to the shared history of countless nights, cradled together like a cocoon. Ellie gently managed to take your shoes off of you, not wanting to wake you up.

She covered you with a blanket and with a soft smile, she quietly kicked off her boots before climbing in beside you. 

As Ellie snuggled up beside you, she felt the warmth enveloping you in the cozy cabin. You laid comfortably, in that sweet space between being awake and drifting off, letting out a happy sigh as Ellie pulled you in close.

Ellie's fingers played with your hair, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she she watched you. Your eyelashes fluttered a bit, responding to the soothing touch. Outside, the leaves rustled quietly, a noise that seemed to match the rhythm of your breaths.

As Ellie continued playing with your hair, the outside world faded away, leaving only the comforting sounds of their cozy cabin. Amidst the quiet, your soft words broke through,  barely audible.

“I love you," you mumbled, the words hanging sweetly in the air. Ellie's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in your voice. A warmth, deeper than the blankets around you, spread through Ellie. Without missing a beat, Ellie whispered back, "I love you too, baby,” confirming the love that bound you both together.

As Ellie continued to run her fingers through your hair, a peaceful calm settled over you. The moon added a soft glow through the window, landing softly on your skin.

In the quiet, your breathing steadied, and murmurs faded into a serene silence. Ellie, still holding you close, admiring your sweet nose and how you’d snore a little every now and then. As you slipped into dreams, Ellie held you a bit tighter, cherishing the warmth of your togetherness.

The tired lines had disappeared, leaving behind the peaceful look of someone not bothered by the chaos outside. Ellie couldn't help but be amazed at the simple beauty of the moment—the calmness of sleep, the warmth of shared blankets, and the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

As Ellie closed her eyes, tiredness taking over herself as well. The world might have gone haywire, but in that small cabin in Jackson, love and comfort ruled. They slept, tangled together in the embrace of their own little cabin, finding peace in each other.

===

[sgiandubh]

Whisky, gin and beer

It was always going to be about beer, too - not only whisky and gin. And it was probably designed to be a simultaneous project, that might have been postponed for various reasons: funny how all those intelligent people across the street forget everything about COVID, when it does not fit their agendas. And by COVID, I do not mean only the prolonged lockdowns, but first and foremost the worldwide logistics crisis, with compromised supply chains and overall a huge blow on the transports' sector.

In fact, looking at those trademark websites, it becomes evident that first (now abandoned) trademark application for beer was filed in at the same time as the one for whisky, on December 28, 2018:

Separate categories, as per US regulations, need separate filings, of course. And beer is a brilliant, simple idea, with high quality local ingredients (it's really barley, water, hops and yeast) relatively easy to source. Well, spare perhaps for the hops, but that is not really a problem, anymore:

(Source: the James Hutton Institute's booklet Hops in Scotland, 2018 - well, then. The institute is based in Dundee, by the way, so I think they know exactly what they are talking about, especially after a four year long feasibility study with encouraging results: https://www.hutton.ac.uk/news/scottish-hops-viable-commercial-crop-hutton-research-finds)

As I always make a point of reminding anyone, this page does not deal in fantasy and empty, meaningless scouring of social media accounts. And cackle to your heart's content, Mordor, but S seems to have a genuine, informed interest in the industry, as shown above.

This is a different business plan and a different marketing model, based on affordable production costs and yield/volume (as compared to successive, 'limited batches' of tequila or whisky, where the accent is placed on the excellence of the product and know-how, as reflected in the final price tag). You can bottle that beer or you can sell it on tap, partnering with local bars and pubs first, then progressively extending that network. And I bet the farm it is going to be a premium, artisanal beer first, with options open for a more democratic product, once brand awareness is properly built: beer is versatile, like that.

Whisky and gin were expensive, carefully curated pet projects. Beer is a fun, easy and lucrative one, with a wider clientele and fast growing potential. And this is how that unknown, struggling Scottish actor who once was the face of Tennent's has a fair opportunity to strike it big. To be followed, which I might do. And this is also how his products could cover the entire price range, from luxury to affordable.

It is also always disheartening to see how all those bitter women congregating on certain Tumblr pages feel the need to dismiss anything he does. As I always said and I always will, many of them have no idea about the very basics of business and trade, no exposure to that world and, to be honest, no particular intellectual acuity. Plus I bet the farm many of them lie about their own circumstances: it's easy to pretend, on the Internet and always sexier (and lame, of course) to introduce yourself as a corporate whatever than a secretary. But I wonder how would they feel, in the unlikely situation they would be running their own lemonade stand, if passers by started cackling and bitching about their trade, out of the blue.

So, all in all, we seem to be dealing with some careful preparation, portfolio diversification and yes, taking much needed strides away from McGrandma. To be continued, of course...

PS: FMN Gin, still crickets? Ahhh...

[razbrry]

may i request grell w/ an s/o who has the opposite personality as her at first but when the two got closer they sometimes show their more dramatic and sassy side pls?

also s/o is into artsy things like drawing, writing, theatre, fashion, etc.

note💋— i read 'drawing, writing, theatre, fashion' and immediately screamed. you're so cool, anon!!!

with you, being the seemingly opposite artsy lover showing of their sass— ft. grell sutcliff

grell loves you, you’re like a chia pet

in the best way possible of course X3

you’re basically the glue to the relationship, such serene energy!

your passion for all things of the arts intrigues grell, it’s one of the reasons she fell for you.

does grell appreciate art and writing like you do? you know what, not as much.

but theatre and fashion? … we’ll get into that later

she finds such pride being seen with someone reading a book.

with no pictures? reaaaaally??

“wahhj! you’re so deep, s/o!”

she thinks the way you carry yourself compliments her so well.

that’s like an amazing achievement, good job!

and oh dear me, you’re always so well dressed and accessorized

like, could she even fall further in love with you?

glaring at viscount druitt together from affar.

“now, is he really in the place to be that full of himself?… even for my likings, he sure knows how to girl out.” grell shudders.

batting your eyelashes, you shake your head slowly. “praying for the day he realizes nobody likes him. that poor, poor thing.”

ok so grell is screaming like a banshee

where you trying to imitate her? that’s cute!

no you weren’t, but okay.

she believed you where just trying to fit in with her sense of style for a good while until it kept repeating itself, looking more real by the second.

your eye rolls, she loves them so much hello???

you’d get feisty at the most uncalled for times.

ouuu…

you are SO her type.

and the way you two yap about theatre like there’s no tomorrow is so much fun

you and grell 100% go see productions together when she’s off work.

both of your eyes lighting up, analyzing the pretty set, costumes and props of the performance

if this WASN’T in the victorian era, grell’s favorite musical would be ‘chicago’

HANDSDOWN.

nono, and lets talk about your art.

most of the time she sees you, you’re holding that sketchbook like it’s nobody’s business.

and *it is* quite literally nobody’s business.

meaning the grell has been dying to take a peek at what you’ve been scribbling in there.

many attempts of her trying to shimmy her way to grab is away, just for you to snatch it back dramatically.

she cackles every time

and when you eventually give in, she is AWESTRUCK.

grell is staring at those pages.

cricket cricket cricket

kind of embarrassing. does she like them or not?

her face is in fact burning up! you have the cutest little doodles and sketches of her.

she’s going to tease you about this every time she gets the cue to. congrats!!!

seriously, she loves all of your little artistic interests.

“paint me like one of your french girls”

no grell, we’re not painting you naked. :(

maybe

[thoughtroomba02]

TS Film Thoughts Masterpost

As promised.

Let's start things off -

Breaking News - Headlines about the film

Dec 9 2022 - her film contract makes headlines

From what I can find, this is the first that anyone knows she is producing a film. There are no details released other than it's a script she wrote and she will be directing the film.

The next we hear is Dec 7, 2023 from the Tennessean --

It's been crickets, essentially. There are no public details I can find about the film anywhere including cast list, release date, content, ETC.

Interestingly, two days ago -- though uncertain of validity of source -

I don't have access to puck so cannot confirm what the article says; but this was recent! So; in theory, she finishes her Eras tour and moves directly in to film.

More on how Disney+ ties in our next section...

Who is Searchlight Pictures?

Created April 29, 1994 - formerly known as Fox Searchlight/under 20th/21st Century Fox

Biggest success: Slumdog Millionaire 187 Academy Ward Nominations with 46 wins; 5 Best Picture since 2009 117 Golden Globe Nominations; 51 wins 66 Screen Actors Guild Award Nominations; 55 wins 137 Independent Spirit Awards, 54 Wins

Other Notable Films: 12 Years A Slave; Black Swan; Napoleon Dynamite;

20th century fox, prior to the creation of Searchlight, was prominent in the specialty and independent films market in the 1990s; it carried this interest into Searchlight, at least initially.

In 2012, it was incorporated into Murdoch's 21st Century Fox. Barf.

On Dec 14, 2017 Disney put their first bid out on 21st Century Fox/Fox Searchlight. On March 19, 2019 the companies merged and Disney acquired Fox Searchlight; Fox News notoriously split independently. Disney dropped the name Fox; so now we have just Searchlight Pictures. There is also a Searchlight Pictures TV and shorts production, which for the sake of time I will not get into.

For Funsies, here is a short film (Jun 18 2019, after Disney acquired) produced by them called....LAVENDER. About a gay man who has a relationship with a married gay couple. Can't make it up.

Anyway, since merging with Disney especially, the company seems to be LGBTQ friendly.

And yes, Joe Alwyn has worked with Searchlight, with tweets I found dating back to 2018 with Searchlight UK. Make of that what you would like, I have no real objective commentary on the matter.

Taylor as a Director

She also directed the Long Pond Studio Sessions and Miss Americana.

Most of her directorial work has been since the Lover debut. Most of which is very queer coded/sapphic.. and again, make of that what you will.

Appearances/Pap Walks, ETC

Since her split from JA, we have seen her with multiple friends in the film industry. Among these: Ryan Reynolds, Blake Lively, Selena Gomez, Keleigh Teller, Miles Teller, Sophie Turner, Emma Stone...

And dare I say.... Travis Kelce, who seems to want to break his way into the entertainment industry?

(aside from this headline; his failed dating show, his podcast, his multiple PR deals like with ZenWater... etc. I rest my case).

We also know there has been some B roll footage taken at the Chiefs Games.

Additionally, the media coverage of this relationship has been an absolute f*cking circus; with constant headlines of the two and their "engagement" / relationship dynamics. On Taylor's end, we have had constant references to Bejeweled (where she Ghosts); including Keleigh Teller giving her the opal ring.

The Speculation

Yall, this is my opinion - you can agree, disagree, etc; but I have no insider information. Just thoughts.

She makes her film directorial debut with Searchlight - recently acquired by Disney, who is pro-LGBTQ; and is clearly in deep with business deals with them, as seen on Taylor Nation and her Eras Tour Film.

We have rumors of her beginning her film production at the end of the ERAS tour, along with knowledge of her currently with B roll footage from chiefs games. We have multiple highly papp'ed appearances with her + TK; but also with multiple film stars, including Blake Lively (still not over that photo), Sophie Turner (I do think there's altruism here tbh on TS's end), and Keleigh. If you believe Keleigh is her stand in invisible bride.... Holy shit. Between the opal ring shutdown of the media circus as well as her and TS literally taking a page out of TSHOEH and dressing in character...

My ultimate suspicion is that she's using actual experiences of her current life-highly papp'ed - to tell her story. And that Keleigh is her stand in muse in this film.

I also think the @spade-riddles we've been getting about a final act ending, etc, pertain to her film. I don't have evidence aside from speculation.

I rest my case. Enjoy this post and make of it what you will.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Rhian, drop your morning/night routine!

Rhian: In the morning, I don't "wake up" like most do. Instead, I simply get out of bed since I'm usually up all night attempting to fall asleep. Repose rarely overtakes me, and my mind's always reeling. I may have to commission a sleeping draught from a witch one day.

At this stage of the morning, Rafal is usually still out cold, and it doesn't matter how loud I am, so I listen to the morning Kingdom Council spellcast reports from a mirror I've ensorcelled at full volume and review the Putsi market trends as I start on my routine.

The Gillikin Gazette's updates about its ongoing cathedral construction are my favorites though—its flying buttresses rival Camelot's dated, heavier Romanesque designs. I only manage to catch those reports on Saturdays though since I have to be out of the tower and on my way at an early hour most days. Oh, and I tend to cast a spell, so my bed makes itself while I busy myself with more important tasks.

Firstly, I need my ermine slippers and silk dressing gown. I shower and usually start with a facial, rosewater, or whichever magical cure-all I'm currently using to remove my under-eye shadows with.

Though, Rafal's been a bother about the cucumbers I go through. He thinks I'll drain the Woods' supply and that he won't have any left for his sandwiches. Mind you, that isn't true in the least.

I use charcoal imported from Akgul to remove impurities of the skin, and that's been rather effective as of late. I also ice my pores, page through Maxine's progress reports, and keep tabs on the lackadaisical performers. Tracking's very important at a School like ours, you know.

On some occasions, I do my own makeup, but really, it seems to me that only the Evergirls care if they notice at all. These days, I've been fond of whipped beetroot tinctures and orchid cologne. Then, I arrange my hair, dress suitably for the day's activities in whichever clothes I pressed the night before, and polish my boots. I polish Rafal's too. He doesn't notice or care—thinks we're immune to disease and scrutiny—but he's missing the point. It's about image, of course. And I worry that he'll bring bird mites from his Stymphs indoors, and that would not only be unseemly for a School Master, but a disaster of inordinate proportions, even if our health isn't at risk. Think of the parent complaints we'd receive, if we had an infestation. The picket-lines would never end!

When I head out, Rafal's almost always still asleep, so I bring us back breakfast, and wake him then.

Well, I say "wake him," but rousing him isn't as simple as I've likely led you to believe. By now, it's turned into an awfully elaborate burlesque. I switch mirror channels to the Jaunt Jolie Music Hall's Cricket and Brass orchestra production of the day. If that fails, I bang a ladle on our breakfast's silver cloche over him. And if all else fails, I shout "FIRE," "INVASION," or even "PIRATES" if I'm desperate and running late, and that does the trick. I still haven't figured out if he's been deluding me though, or if it's his dreams that leave him with those horrid little grins.

Yet, this particular song-and-dance of sorts has been more of a recent development. His clarion-belled alarm clock from Geppetto's broke last month, and he hasn't had the time to replace it. The flight's a day's trip, and this new class of Nevers cannot be left alone for more than a day because he's sure there'll be either an outbreak of some pox or of some general pandemonium since he doesn't think I'm capable of maintaining order. I'm more than capable in truth.

We eat then, he in his pajama shorts and shirt and black stockings with the runs I chastise him about throwing out everyday, and me in my typical smart attire.

At the end, I wash up, sit, and wait for him to set the dishes to scrubbing themselves, comb his hair, and dress. After that, we split off to our respective sides for the day, and I see him again at dusk.

"Bye." or "Morning, brother." is as talkative as he gets at this time of day before he vanishes into the Tunnel of Trees or crosses the Halfway Bridge into the smog, unless he has a storybook victory to congratulate himself over or another point to bolster his side of an argument with—arguments I naively believed we'd already put to bed the night before.

After a full day of overseeing classes, Rafal legs it over the window sill when he returns and showers immediately when he gets back. Then, he grades papers and exams. On days when he's exhausted by puppeteering mock battle raids or Storian knows what he subjects those poor children to, he passes out in bed fully-clothed without showering, and showers in the morning.

All the while, I perform my nightly skin- and hair care routines, snuff out the candles, and get in bed with an eye mask, in my attempt to get a good night's sleep, often sooner than he goes to bed because he reads news updates and whatever musty tome he's tearing through late into the night.

Sometimes, I wake in the middle of a night terror and realize he's still up marking or reading or scheming, so I confiscate the candles at that point and force him to sleep. Rarely does he listen, and I've stopped bothering most of the time as he reads by the light of his fingerglow instead, contrary to all sound advice. He doesn't view sleep as necessary seeing as the Storian sustains us, but he has no sleep troubles, so I suppose that's an easy conclusion to form if you're him. The latest remedy I've resorted to is tucking lavender into my pillowcase, but I've had not a drop of luck.

[justforbooks]

Ed McLachlan

Cartoonist whose work appeared in Punch, Private Eye, the Spectator and the Oldie in a 60-year career

The cartoons of Ed McLachlan, who has died aged 84, were at once as deliciously dark and twisted as Charles Addams, as imaginative as William Heath Robinson, as surreal as John Glashan and as quintessentially British as the Punch cartoonist Pont.

Ed’s immediately recognisable pen line, and cast of buck-toothed, big-nosed protagonists, entertained, shocked and outraged from the pages of Punch, Private Eye, the Oldie and Spectator, among many others. Often set in traditional gag cartoon settings, from date nights and office boardrooms to middle-class front rooms and Stannah stairlifts, his cartoons took the mundane and delivered the hilariously absurd.

Giant creatures were often present, creating destruction in otherwise quaintly British scenes. For Private Eye’s 10th anniversary edition in 1971, Ed drew a monstrous hedgehog rushing across a busy road, pulverising an unfortunate car and its occupants as it goes. In another cartoon, an enormous dinosaur rampages through a city past an ongoing cricket match, while an exasperated commentator complains that “once again we have interruption of play caused by movement behind the bowler’s arm”.

Ed combined his vivid imagination with a relentless work ethic, his work also appearing in magazines as various as the New Statesman, the Big Issue, Reader’s Digest, the New Yorker and Playboy.

Initially he had not considered a career in cartoons, despite contributing a number to his college magazine. However, in 1961, while working at a printing company designing posters, he was persuaded by colleagues (by way of a £5 bet) to submit a scrapbook of cartoons to Punch. To his surprise, the magazine bought one for seven guineas, more for an hour’s work than he was earning in a week at the printing office. Within weeks they had bought several more, thus beginning a regular contribution to the magazine that would last until it ceased production in 2002.

Born in Humberstone, Leicestershire, to Edward McLachlan, a structural engineer, and his wife, Josephine, a secretary, Ed went to Wyggeston grammar school, then studied graphic design at Leicester College of Art (now DeMontfort University), graduating in 1959.

Following his success with Punch, in 1965 he went freelance, resolving to establish a career by “making myself a nuisance banging on agencies’ doors”. The following year, he began drawing a series of political cartoons for the Sunday Mirror, under the title McLachlan’s View. In 1967, he started to contribute cartoons to Private Eye, and in 1970 left the Sunday Mirror for the Evening Standard as its new political cartoonist. Between 1972 and 1974, he produced a series of pocket cartoons titled Insiders for the Daily Mirror.

Apart from a brief return to Leicester College of Art as a part-time lecturer in graphics (1967-70), Ed thereon focused on his cartoon and illustration work, which also encompassed children’s books, TV series and advertising campaigns.

In 1969, he wrote and illustrated his first children’s book, Simon in the Land of Chalk Drawings. This was the first of four books about a little boy who owns a magic chalkboard, upon which everything he draws becomes real. The books were made into an animated television series, which first aired in Canada before appearing on British television on ITV in 1976, running for 24 episodes. The series was directed by Ivor Wood, best known for shows such as The Magic Roundabout and The Wombles, and narrated by Bernard Cribbins. It remained popular in Canada, where it was remade in 2002.

Ed also wrote and illustrated the children’s books Claude Makes a Change (1979), Magnus in the Land of Lost Property (1985) and The Dragon Who Could Only Breathe Smoke (1985), and illustrated more than 80 books in the Bangers and Mash educational reading series by Paul Groves, which were made into a children’s ITV series in 1989. Nonfiction books include Bill Beaumont’s Bedside Rugby (1986) and John Walker’s Chess for Tomorrow’s Champions (1994), as well as many of the For Dummies instructional series.

Over the years Ed was also in demand for advertising campaigns for brands such as Dunlop, Renault, Alka Seltzer, Dewar’s Whisky and Walkers. Most recently, his cartoons were used for a series of London Underground posters for Timothy Taylor’s Brewery.

He received many awards, including illustrative cartoonist of the year (1980) and advertising cartoonist of the year (1982) from the Cartoonists’ Club of Great Britain, and gag cartoonist of the year twice (1982 and 1997) from the Cartoon Art Trust, which also presented him with a lifetime achievement award in 2011. In 2016, he was given an honorary doctorate from the University of Leicester.

Across the span of his 60-year career, Ed’s style of drawing, a confident ink line and a monochrome wash on artist’s board, remained remarkably consistent. Later in his career, he began to add colour, working skilfully in watercolour on a scale much larger than his cartoons would be reproduced in print. While much of the detail would be lost when the cartoons were shrunk down for reproduction in magazines, when the originals began to be exhibited in a gallery setting – and in the Chris Beetles gallery, of which I am director, from 2001 – his expertise in these mediums could be truly appreciated.

Ed continued to draw cartoons up until his death. In one of his final cartoons, for Private Eye, taste testers at a crisp factory lament their new range of extra crispy snacks, which are so crunchy they have caused one of their colleagues to explode.

He is survived by his wife, Shirley (nee Gerrard), whom he married in 1964, their daughters, Danielle, Joelle and Aimee, and son, Alex, and by four grandchildren.

🔔 Edward Rolland McLachlan, cartoonist, author and illustrator, born 22 April 1940; died 29 September 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[tara-girl]

Simple Astrological Remedies for Landing Your Dream Job!

A person is born with many skills. But Universe has fixed a particular timing of showing your skills which will be beneficial for you in form of good job, career and gains in that timing.

Dasha is the most important factor which tells that universe is calling you for which purpose. If you will go in that direction with right intention, paitence and hard work then universe will support you fully to that field.

I will explain it through famous Indian Bollywood celebrity chart, Shahrukh Khan-

(His Astro Chart- Pic credit- AstroSage App)

1-When he was going through Rahu mahadasha-

His rahu is sitting in 10th house of career and hard work. The lord of 10th house is sitting in 5th house which is Venus(planet of creativity and arts). He worked hard in field of creativity at that time.He debuted his acting career and worked in many television serials.

2-When his Jupiter Mahadasha came-

His Jupiter is sitting in 11th house of gains and all wishes. He won big awards. He bought his dream house Mannat during that dasha.

Jupiter is also aspecting Venus which is enhancing it's qualities of creativity and arts. He joined main stream bollywood and acted in many movies and gave super hit movies during this dasha.

Jupiter is also aspecting 7th house of business and legal partnership. So, he also founded his own production house I.e Red Chilli Entertainment with his wife.

3-When his Saturn Mahadasha came-

His Saturn is sitting in 7th house of business and legal partnership in its own sign of Aquarius. During that time his company Red Chilli Entertainment had already produced or co-produced at least nine films. He teamed up with a UAE based real estate firm with his wife Gauri for a residential complex right in front of the beach in Dubai.

As Saturn was also aspecting Mars from it's 10th aspect. Mars represent sports also.Therefore he also purchased Cricket team of Indian Premier League (IPL).

Because his 10th lord(the house of career) is sitting in 5th house(the house of creativity).

Remember, important in his journey is that he is working in the field of creativity. He had expanded all his business with the help of his creative and artistic skills(acting).

This shows that one should choose career field according to his/her 10th lord placement but should use that skill in that field only whose planetary dasha is going on.

[soobrat]

this isn't whining, this is an explanation and a request for information. if not, I may not be active anymore

So recently I've become a more disciplined and driven person. If you don't know, I'm in college and I have a job. I've recently realized my dream and have set aside hours of my time to dedicate to it. I've also put more time towards things like skincare and exercise and meditation etc. Why am I saying this? Because after hours of productivity, I have a gap. Free hours where I don't have anything that needs to be done. This is where I decide to write for you guys. And every time I do, I wonder if it's a good use of my time. I wonder if I should use that little time for video games instead.

You are free to ignore this, but just being transparent, that makes it more possible that I don't log in again. I used to be afraid of addressing this head on as to not offend or upset you guys, but honestly vitriol and annoyance would be better than the embarrassing silence I'm met with. This isn't coming from high levels of emotion, I'm actually very calm and kind of excited to finally get this off my chest. These are just the facts of what's going on in my brain.

If you just want to know what to do to guarantee I'll stay, scroll to the bottom of this. If you don't care that much, that's cool too.

I'm working on Mosquito part three because I realize it's been much too long since it's been updated. I'm busy, but still. And I can't even have fun with the story I admittedly really like because the entire time I'm overthinking. You see, when a story doesn't get notes, that in itself isn't the problem. The problem is what's in between the lines. Did this not get notes because people didn't like it? Does this topic bore them? Do they not like idol/celebrity aus? And while I'm writing, I can't stop nitpicking what I think is causing the eerie silence.

I used to be spoiled. Fics like loosen up, brat/slut, oblivious were very well received. I would be reblogging feedback constantly, see notes fill up my notification center, I would get the message. I did take a lengthy hiatus and stopped updating as fast, but when I finally came back, people would never guess my follower count by my engagement.

Don't be fooled though, this number has been hovering around this for possibly a year, maybe even longer. It dips and then rises by a few and then dips again. Repeat. I started to think that this just wasn't a lot of followers. In the grand scheme of things, it ain't. But then I look on my dash and see a writer thank their readers for 300 followers. I click on their page and a fic they posted yesterday have ONE HUNDRED times more notes than a fic I posted several months ago. And it's not just a fluke, most of their fics are this way. People who have been writing as long as I have and have a similar follower count (I assume) have very high note counts as well. Some of them even have spotty posting schedules and have had lengthy hiatuses.

Again, I want to stress that this isn't coming from heightened emotions or jealousy. Honestly it's mostly confusion. Wondering if I did something wrong. The closest I've gotten to getting emotional is with the embarrassment. I see other creators get flooded with asks and response to their normal posts just talking about their day. And when I do it, radio silence. Again, this sometimes happens with writers with a fraction of my follower count.

I'll make a confession. I have been sending myself anon asks. Which ones are me? That's for sherlock holmes to deduce. Why did I do it? I've already admitted it, it's embarrassment. I feel embarrassed when I post something and am met with crickets. I honestly feel pathetic.

I am diagnosed with anxiety so I'll chalk up the following to that: I have come to the conclusion that I annoy you guys. Even that I annoy other writers since I don't have many writer friends on here. It's gotten to the point where I feel like every interaction I make with anyone on this website in any way is annoying someone. When I changed my theme and no one commented on it at all, My mind automatically went to "God the theme is obnoxious and embarrassing" and I already want to change it despite all the time I put into it.

Can you see now why I dread opening up Tumblr? I dread opening up docs of my fics for this reason. Idk how to transition so I'll just pivot to my next point.

My fics have a head scratching amount of notes. This started around when I posted Industry Babies and Amusement, when I was genuinely shocked by the lack of notes. I stopped Mortal Sin out of embarrassment because I posted a part and it only had ONE note for DAYS. Let me show you the best performing recent fic:

This is Mosquito pt. 1. I'm very proud of this! It made me so eager to continue the series. In hindsight, this is still a negligible amount of notes, and a chunk of these are ICYMI reblogs from me, but I'm still happy about it. Here's part two even with a lot of ICYMI reblogs:

I'll be honest, this was a head scratcher. This has barely budged since then, too. The message I ultimately received is that people won't read if there is 0 smut. Well? That fucking sucks because this is a slow burn fic! And honestly I don't want to throw in Soobin randomly fucking random girls just so people will read.

I also recently posted the final part of FUML. Final parts always get the most notes (I always assumed people just skipped to the last part which always perplexed me) and here's how that did (with ICYMI reblogs):

This is so so good and I'm so grateful. And it got a lot of notes very fast.

Now I did two requested fics, mind you this is the amount of notes they got with NO ICYMI reblogs:

Now, I'm about to say that this is pretty damn good, because I actually think so and I'm thankful for it. But every so often I kinda sit there and think about how it feels like I'm begging for pocket change. This feels so conceited and ungrateful of me. But remember, the reason why we're even talking about this is because my time has become a lot more valuable, and to be frank, the notes are making writing fanfics seem like a bad way to spend my time.

I'll be sad to go, but after all this, you have to understand while I'm hesitant to stay. I'd have to be a narcissist to think anyone actually sat and read through all this so I'll do a little TL/DR:

The lack of engagement has changed from a little disappointing to mixed signals being sent about what you guys want (hence all the polls)

The lack of banter and casual asks or just engagement to my casual posts has made me a little embarrassed compared to writers with similar follower counts or less followers

The simple act of not liking a post affects the overall notes and can harm the chances of a fic being posted, or send a message about what you want to see

I get the unreasonable feeling I annoy you guys and other writers so frankly it makes opening tumblr or interacting with this blog in any way just. not. fun.

I forgot to add this in the doc but to be frank (again), it kind of annoys me to see a fic get little to no interaction, and then I reblog a picture of an idol and all of a sudden my followers are acting. Juuuust being honest.

As a reader who doesn't want to see you go, what can I do?

Be honest! Now, I'm not asking for lengthy dissertations on why my writing is bad. I'm not looking for writing criticism. What I am looking for is for the people who are silent readers or just straight up scroll past what I post, tell me why. Don't be afraid to hurt my feelings. Is it my posting schedule (or lack thereof)? Is it because you just don't feel the same as you did when you read my older stuff? Or do you just never bother with pressing the buttons? The silence is worse than whatever you have to say.

Let me know that you always press like on my fics, but are just a bit shy and don't like leaving comments or asks. This is totally fine by the way, knowing you exist is enough.

Be more active from now own, reply to posts, send asks, reblog and just keyboard smash in the replies. ANYTHING is good. Don't take this as me scolding you, just as a suggestion in case you wanted to know how to help.

I won't be sending myself anons anymore (yeah... if you missed that, scroll up the the indented section) so if you see my blog in it's natural dead state, disrupt the deadness! You'll actually make my day.

If this flops, I'll still proooobably use my main acc. But honestly I'll probably just be on my poll acc (@kpolls ) because it's actually really fun lol. See you all on the flip side!

Mal

[qiwoomi]

iii. care for you (snippet)

series masterlist main masterlist prev next

The sun is yet to rise, the pitch black sky and the sounds of crickets accompanying the darkness at dawn.

Just like how Alhaitham clocked out at 5PM sharp, the Chief Operating Officer of his father's corporation— and soon to be the successor of said company clocked into the building as early as 5AM.

It is unusual for the most prominent worker of the company to clock in this early. Though Alhaitham is known to be disciplined and productive— which is some of the criteria that makes his colleagues look up to him, to the point where there's even a discussion amongst them that agrees a man with such qualities is the most eligible to carry his family's inheritance.

However, behind the identity that is portrayed by outsiders Alhaitham is not even as near as what they think. They only see a glimpse of his character and words about his attitude spread like wildfire.

One thing that they didn't know is that, he only sees his work as a responsibility. Just like everyone else, he can be lazy too. He stands by his own belief that he only do a certain thing if he can benefit from it.

Even the security was shocked— it's as if sleep had completely washed out of his body before permitting his car to be parked in the parking lot.

Alhaitham didn't even have any official business to be this early, he just feels like it.

As he got off the elevator, the man spends a few minutes turning on the main switch as the once gloomy office brightens up.

He then starts working on his slide that is to be presented for the upcoming meeting. In the midst of all of it, he's mentally planning his schedule for the day. As he hums to a few songs— indicating that the temporary silence gave him the relaxation that he needs and craves for. Which is rare to get by.

He glanced at the analog clock, there's only approximately 15 minutes before the time strikes 6. Which is the expected time where most salaryman and salarywoman should begin their workloads for the day.

The slide is finally done, as he's leaning back against his office chair with a sigh of relief.

Alhaitham reached for his phone, texting Kaveh for the thousandth time to buy him his usual morning coffee. A notification then popped up, which reads 'It's Proven: Food is The Way to A Woman's Heart' as the man spent about 20 minutes researching the topic.

He's already jotting down notes on foods that might be to your liking— reminding himself to buy the main ingredients later. He didn't even realise the intruder that is his blonde friend, irritation printed on his face to find him so concentrated.

Alhaitham looks so focused that even his friend think he was just doing his work but really, it's just him considering and studying the recipes recommended on some YouTube video as his brows scrunched. Questioning himself if he's even as skilled to cook most of the dishes...

taglist: @odevote118 @levisbebe @hitomi-inaru @no3hg3nshin @thetwinkims @tanspostsblog @kaoyamamegami @iamfakeu @starlightauralis @mmm-alhaitham @klementime @makimakimi @itonashi @crowbird @changgchangg25 @haengezoe @0r093hf74hf8460 @catjsjs @ezraiix @hakunonn @lady-makima @ninjakuko @fluidfandoms @ragnvdnr @chishiyawifesworld

author's note: my hc is that this man would probably unironically watch these type of videos or read those articles when he's still early in a relationship and didn't know what to do 😔 <3 a little filler before :DD yk

© @qiwoomi

est. 070323

do not copy, translate and repost my work.

[tumbling-through-deepspace]

The ramblings of a Hunter that never wanted to be...

Lyssa sighed for the fifth time, chin plopped firmly in the palm of her hand, just feeling her social battery deplete as the seconds tick away.

How has she ever been able to survive her life if being surrounded by people made her skin crawl? Being an adult was so trifling.

If only the Gods or whatever higher being out there could offer a blessing: to let her come into possession of millions of dollars so she could disappear and spend the rest of her existence in solitude.

Living in Linkon City was like a cage. It was the result of a dying promise that made her join the Hunters Association. The job wasn't bad, and she gave 110% on every mission eradicating Wanderers, but it wasn't fulfilling.

She could hear Tara speak animatedly with her best friend two desks down, another hunter that graduated from their batch, with them both coming out the top of the class. A few other Hunters were coming in and out the work space as well.

Lyssa's gaze fixated on the clock, watching the hands tick away, counting the seconds in her head. Would the work day ever end?

It was sweet music to her ears when the Captain entered, announcing that there were no pressing missions at the moment and everyone can clock out early once outstanding reports were completed.

It was a good thing all her reports were completed two days prior. Lyssa's evol buzzed under her skin as she hurried to exit the building, giving everyone a hasty goodbye.

It wasn't until she was speeding down the highway on her motorcycle, exiting the busy atmosphere of central Linkon did she breath easily.

Reaching her home didn't take long. Lyssa hurried inside to get out her Hunter's uniform and wash off the stress of the day. Thank goodness tomorrow was Saturday.

As she lay in her hammock, the control around her Evol chipped away. The lilac ribbons surrounding her gave her comfort; hugging her body like a warm blanket, whispering lovingly of freedom, yet to come.

It was through tears and rambling thoughts that made her question again and again if it worth all this heartache. If it were up to her she would never leave her home.

It was so hard for her to wear a mask everyday, catering to the expectations of people who didn't even know the real her.

Sometimes she hated the cards fate dealt her.

Eventually, Lyssa fell asleep to the sounds of crickets, gentle breeze and the unknowing caress of a mechanical crow purched on top her head of curls.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

AN: I can't sleep. My brain said to be productive and share a bit about Lyssa.

[sgiandubh]

An intimate lunch

Coming back to this particular C pic, which has sparkled endless comments, today (still very busy days for me & I gave in and binged TCND - this explains the ungodly hour):

Dots have been connected (there are, after all, alternative Keepers of the Dots, a sobriquet I am therefore relinquishing, thanking again the friend who gifted it to me). And comments -ranging from stan blindness to unreasonable conspiracy theories - have been written too.

Tellingly enough, the wording of the Finch and Partners IG post was quite suggesting: 'an intimate lunch' means more than promo, almost a personal get together with, at the very least, carefully selected people.

Was she coat-tailing? Very probably, to the extent she is understandably interested in getting more acting (directing?) projects after OL. And to make it clear: there is nothing bad to it.

Did she know Cooper before? There is no way in hell to confirm it with 100% accuracy, but my guess is no. Someone, as it has been pointed out, obliged. These are the simple, expected minimum benefits of a PR agent, a Rolodex and of networking. And it is true: she has been consistently on Finch's list and invited at many of their events since at least 2016. Which is to say, since IFH? Oh. OK. No further questions, Your Honor.

Was it a reward for dragging along McIdiot at that Netflix gala, the day before? Even taking into account her visible lack of enthusiasm, I am afraid things are not as simple and mechanic as alternatively dangling the proverbial carrot and stick. It's a quid pro quo, not a reward. A part in a movie would be a reward - not a lunch in town: that would be selling herself very cheaply.

But of course, we are all idiots, as this reaction from a particularly ungifted Mordor pundit would like us to think:

This post is not about S, of course. And the posited question is a superb logical fallacy: S is 'never invited to any of these events', because his side projects are different and his social media communication strategy is different, too. She was not there because of S and no one on this side of the fandom seriously suggested it.

Also, let's not show more idiocy than you are naturally able of, denizens of Mordor: Cooper did not really need her 1 (one) Academy Awards vote. And do you know why? Well, her vote would not make any serious difference among the 7,999 others, this is why:

Yes, the Britannica: I know it pisses you, and many other people, mightily off.

But perhaps she was there also because of this?

Enlighten me, please, since I am such a forgetful idiot, what on Earth might have happened to The Cut? You know, the project she was shooting just before the SAG-AFTRA strike began?

Crickets. And, which is more alarming...

If proven correct, this IMDb info is not very good news and I would be bereft for her. Honestly. Check the link: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt26697087/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_cl_sm. It lists the entire crew, up to the last best boy. Whatever happened to C's part? Whatever happened to C? The movie is now announced in post-production. Surely we'll know very soon, one way or another. But if her part has been slashed out, it's only normal to be more active and scout any possible project opportunity.

Ultimately, the core problem remains unchanged: since she did not post this picture on her socials, she is still as uninterested in them as she's always been. Always. And sorry for repeating myself, but spare some scarce mention about make-up and attire (presumably to be nice to personal friends), she does not engage with this fandom. At all. That does not leave her stans with many options but to write their own fanfic, while accusing us (who may know a bit more than them, at any rate) of doing the same.

Smart girl, C. I am sure S&C divided their respective roles in the 'Coping with the Narrative' in-house production for a very long time and this is the most important thing of them all. The rest is babble, including this post.