#do they have like specific tunnel fits or??

[yackers]

rewatching some random s2 and the last couple times they’re down in the tunnels for the spider web task they’re always wearing the same outfits even though it’s different days and they were wearing different clothes earlier

[jaythelay]

I think the best way to describe many people's issues with modern day anything, from art, to discussions:

What if you had to use your imagination to conceptualize what the artist intended!? Wouldn't that be fucking nuts!

[antmimicry]

a snake will see a water dish and be like "is anyone else gonna slosh around in this and then knock as much aspen into it as possible" and not wait for an answer

[rileysluvr]

simon riley has a thing for lips. your lips, more specifically.

whenever you’re with him, he can’t help but have his attention focused entirely on your pretty lips. stationary or not, smiling or frowning; tunnel-vision takes over and everything outside turns to muffled ringing and blurry objects. they’re just so sweet and full, and the different glosses you coat your lips in throughout the many days at work all have low groans threatening to spill over his own, each and every time he lays eyes on you. though, the only word that comes to his mind as his gaze is tracing over every curve and divot when he knows you aren’t looking, is fuckable. and he knows it’s wrong, but…

your lips would look so, so good wrapped around his cock. as far as the head goes, anyway; he knows just the tip would suffice in filling that tiny mouth of yours. still, his mind runs rampant at the thought of seeing just how much you can take. how long he can use you until you’re absolutely writhing and crying under him, begging for a break.

the way your lips would stretch and turn swollen in a way only he could give you, the prospect has him reeling. he’d turn a perfect, clever thing such as yourself into a fucked-out, ruined little toy. drool pouring from the corners of your mouth, nodding your dizzy head and smiling for more despite already taking everything he gave you.

unfortunately, simon riley doesn’t think his morals could become any more corrupt when he backs you into a corner and discovers you’ve never taken a cock in your mouth, ever.

the smirk on his face grows at your confession, and even more when he sees how flustered and embarrassed you’re getting under his stare. you had no choice but to tell him, you think. he takes your face in his big hands, mumbling something along the lines of, “poor thing…it’s alright, love. i’ll teach ya.”

and before you know it, mental entrapment becomes reality when he’s pushing you to your knees, back against the cold wall as you watch him pull his hard dick out from the confines of his cargo pants. big and mean, just like the rest of him, and you whimper at the lone sight of it. he’s pulling the tactical glove off his burly fist and throwing it somewhere off to the side as you watch dumbly, and wrapping his fingers around the throbbing veins and sheer width of his shaft.

you can’t say you’ve ever been this intimidated by anything, but you absentmindedly lick your lips with hunger as you await whatever he’ll give you, watching him slowly fist his fat cock right in front of your worried face. he snickers at the sight, mumbling more to himself: “i’ve finally got you on your knees, and you still manage to test me.”

“open up, baby, that’s right. stick that pretty tongue out, just like that. i’ll go easy on you,” he huffs, and you listen instantly.

“fuck. watch the teeth, watch it,” he tisks, and when you can’t listen—because, well, who could while being this dumbified on cock? it’s your first time, you can’t be blamed—he’s forced to shove a thumb in your mouth, right beside his cock to hold your jaw down. it’s a tight fit and your lips sting and jaw hurts from the further strain, but a few words can cure all. “that’s right, pretty girl. just lemme use this mouth like we both need, and i’ll reward you soon enough.”

“y’know how long i’ve been meanin’ to do this?” of course, you can only respond with muffled gags as he shoves himself deeper, back of your head pressing up against the wall behind you almost painfully, testing your limits. tears blur your vision but you keep your eyes on him because he told you to, and you’d be crazy not to listen to your lieutenant, even if his ethics have strayed to nothing short of utterly debauched.

“always teasin’ me with those fuckin’ lips, like you knew i’d be watching, eh? that was your goal, yeah, to get me t’teach you how to put them to good use? ‘cause it worked, lovie…doin’ so fuckin’ good for me already… ‘nd we’re gonna make you even better.”

you rub your thighs together and even try to rock your hips a bit, searching for any semblance of pleasure that’s equivalent to his, but it wont come. he laughs at you again, that fucking laugh that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. “isn’t that right, princess?”

afterwards, he’ll shove his spent cock back in his pants and redo his buckle as he watches you, desperately panting on the ground in front of him and catching your breath. grasping at your throat, shoulders heaving, beautiful. he’ll join you in kneeling on the floor, frowning sarcastically when you’re barely able to meet his eyes while his are fixated on yours. and christ, the way your saliva and his cum drips over the edges just like he had imagined— no, even better. tears are permanently welled at your waterline and it’s no less than a gorgeous sight. he’ll study your every feature, every detail on your face that can give him any insight to what you’re thinking, feeling, wanting.

rather, it’s the way you shift in your uncomfortable spot and your thighs are squeezed together in his peripheral that has one corner of his lips curling, a scoff of amusement leaving his lungs. oh, he’s got you. his bare hand comes up to cup your face and the thumb that was once prying your jaw apart for his pleasure now caresses the apple of your cheekbone, almost lovingly, like he really cares.

“is my pretty girl wet?” he teases, giving you no time to compute the happenings of before your throat was tainted with the bitter-sweetness of his cum. he pushes a knee between both of yours, ignoring your groggy pleas of embarrassment, and shoves his other hand down your pants. he delves a thick finger in your cunt without any warning, and then another, effectively hushing your babbles and turning them into a strained hmph and bashful whimpers.

“tight little cunt’s practically soaked, and all from suckin’ your lieutenant’s cock?” you open your mouth to explain but a soft moan comes out before any words can, which might’ve been for the best. what could you even say in this moment? “christ, you’re a dirty fuckin’ thing, aren’t ya? and y’won’t even try to deny it… bet y’just love being treated like this, all mindless and stupid for your boss.”

he’s laughing at you, again. “we can’t just leave you like this, now, can we? are you gonna let me help you out, sweetheart?”

and with pinched brows, glassy eyes, and a quivering, alluring bottom lip, you can only think to nod your head, yes, sir.

[la-di-da-la-di-dee-die]

@wolfythewitch ‘s Gravity Fowls au has awoken a lost childhood memory of mine recently, specifically because their au is so similar to one of my favorite books when I was a kid: Fantastic Mr. Fox

Basic summary of the book: Three Evil Capitalist Farmers attempt to starve local anthro fox family who regularly steal their products (chickens, goose, duck, turkey, and apples/cider) via bio terrorism, failing miserably at every turn.

Now, you may be wondering, what the actual fuck does that have to do with Gravity Fowls? Well, a major part of the book is that the previously mentioned anthro-fox family has been forced underground by previously mentioned Evil Capitalist Farmers, and so Mr. Fox (the mc) has to devise a fool proof method of getting his family food: tunneling farther underground toward the Evil Capitalist Farms and stealing their produce that way instead of the regular way. I don’t know why, but that just sounds like something Bill would do? Like it just fits his vibes.

So, I just had to draw Bill in Mr. Fox’s outfit!

Isn’t he just so handsome? I also drew one other fanart, and some quick context for this next one:

The Evil Capitalist Farmers also accidentally drive the other wildlife into hiding with their bio-terrorism, which are also anthropomorphic (note: all the animals are anthro, but not the chickens or other produce? Probably too dark for a kids book idk). The other animals blame Mr. Fox for being a fucking sneak, and Mr. Fox is like, woah guys! Don’t worry, I’ve fixed everything, I’ve got an infinite food glitch! We just use these tunnels me and the fam have dug to steal more food! I even got some carrots for the vegetarians! And the other animals are like, alright seems legit.

Why all this context? Because I drew Bill’s henchmaniac crew as origami animals based off the other animals from Fantastic Mr. Fox:

I imagine they still live in the nightmare dimension, but they just origami now. btw all the animals in the book have names like Mr. Weasel, and Mr. Mole, with wife and kids too, which is wild to me. Except Mr. Rat. He’s an aweful disgusting thief (which, who in this book isn’t??) whose constantly getting drunk off Cider (which, again, who tf in this book isn’t?? Even one of the anthro-kids gets drunk at some point??)

But I didn’t just make fanart that catered to me and only me, I also made this:

I had this thought of, what if during weirdmagedon, instead of just getting a 3D form, Bill turns into an actual fox, not just an origami one? So that’s where this came from. Also it should be criminal how long it took me to draw Stanford! I spent so long on that fucking chicken.

Uhm, conclusion? Gravity Fowls is awesome, and respect to Wolfythewitch for being able to actually draw chickens consistently well, I only dream to be able to master that skill.

[gffa]

JEDI ORDER CITATIONS IN STAR WARS CANON, PART V [A Meta/Reference Guide on AO3] Welcome to my Jedi Culture and Teachings in Canon series, where I collate various quotes from current canon to provide a worldbuilding and reference guide, whether for better fic writing, just general interest in getting to know the Star Wars lore better, or if you want to be able to pull out some quotes when you're fighting the internet on behalf of the fictional space wizards. ;) So, what's here? Basically anything I think would be of interest to people who want to know what the Jedi are like in the canon--any worldbuilding bits (what special abilities do the Jedi have? do the Jedi have art? do they have funeral rites? what do we know about Knighting ceremonies? what are the themes of the Force? are the Jedi telepaths or empaths and what scenes in canon support that? what do we know about Jedi schooling?), any quotes from Lucas himself, all arranged in categories to help you find what you're looking for. Feel free to take this guide or leave it, it's not about telling other people what to do, if you scroll on by, that's fine, I'm not your mom, do what you want. But if you want to know what the Jedi have to say about Force bonds or what kind of clothing they way or everything we know about the main ziggurat of the Jedi Temple, I got you covered, babe. This section is admittedly overly large, where previously I would get to about 25k words of citations and post the next part, feeling that was a manageable chunk for readers. But with The Acolyte coming out, I made a challenge to myself to get caught up on all of The High Republic before it aired and I drop citations in as I'm reading, so suddenly I found myself with nearly 50k of citations and I was feeling in the groove, I had all my references easily accessible, I was getting through my backlog, I had access to some of the roleplaying guides, I was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, and, wham, suddenly it's ~70k and here I am now. But that's 70k of examples of what the Jedi say and do, my best attempt to give context to show the consistent themes and parallels within the Jedi Order all across this continuity. How to use this guide? Well, you do you, for starters! But I hope you'll read the intros, as often some books need to be put in specific contexts, and if you have any suggestions for future categories or better organization, feel free to mention it! I do this for me, but I format it for sharing, so I'm game! Feel free to check out previous sections for more examples, and just scroll through to skim the bolded sections to try to find what you're looking for, since not everything always fits neatly into a single given category! (Or just ask me! I love being a nerd about Star Wars worldbuilding.) The guide is broken down into seven sections as before:

How the Force Works

Jedi Culture & Philosophy & Teachings

Jedi As a People

Psychic Space Wizards Doing Psychic Space Wizard Things

Jedi Temple (Living Quarters, Training Rooms, Meditation Gardens and Dining Halls !)

Jedi Outreach, Politics, and the Bigger Galaxy

Fantasy Flight Games Are Not Canon But Canon-Compliant Is Close Enough

Jedi, Buddhism, and Everything Else

[weemietime]

i am asking this in good faith

If the Bosnian Genocide is has been ruled a genocide and the death count was 33,071 people, how is what is happening in Gaza not a genocide when the number has been surpassed

Because genocide is not about the number of people being killed. Genocide is a specific legal term, and it has to have two components: 1) obviously people have to be murdered -- but this must be done systemically, as a policy (either written or unwritten) of the belligerent party. AND 2) there has to be genocidal intention to murder said people. Genocidal intention means that Party A (Israel) murders Party B (Palestinians) specifically because those people belong to Party B (Palestinians). There is no evidence that Israel has a genocidal intention. In fact, the October 7th massacre was actually a genocidal act on behalf of Hamas - Hamas committed the genocidal action and has been committing genocidal actions for over 20 years, because they specifically want to murder Jews for being Jewish. They also meet the first criteria because this is a systemic policy that is present in the Hamas Charter.

This is very important to distinguish because whilst genocide is a war crime, not all war crimes are genocide. Israel has committed war crimes, including murdering civilians, and even intentionally allowing civilians to be killed (such as bombing a house with a Hamas member in it and killing his family members). But this is not sufficient to rise to the criteria of genocide. We could make the argument that there is ethnic cleansing, because the vast majority of the people being evacuated are of a single ethnicity, Palestinian. However, again, ethnic cleansing alone is not sufficient to rise to the definition of genocide.

Crucially, the ICJ has not ruled that there is a genocide ongoing. They have ruled prima facie that 1) South Africa has the right to accuse Israel of genocide, and 2) that the ICJ itself is fit to hear and rule on the accusation. They have also ordered Hamas to release the civilian hostages, so if Hamas is saying they want to abide by the ICJ, they have already disregarded the ICJ ruling.

Genocide is not based on vibes. It's not based on bad feelings. It's not based on videos and images of dead kids, or destroyed rubble. Genocide is a specific legal term that can only be applied to the above scenario, and it cheapens our language when we levy it in circumstances where it does not apply. It especially cheapens our language when we engage in Holocaust inversion by claiming Israel is doing to Palestine what Germany did to the Jews, which is categorically false.

Beyond this, it belittles the groups that are involved in this conflict, particularly Hamas, to treat them like they are innocent civilians when they are in fact a very well-outfitted military brigade and the official armed forces of the Gazan government with over 40,000 fighters strong, who repeatedly and loudly say "death to Israel, we want to annihilate Israel, we will commit October 7th again and again until Israel is destroyed." They are being funded by the IRGC, they are being used as a proxy for Iran, and innocent Palestinian civilians are suffering as a result. Hamas has openly said that the "blood of martyrs fuels our resistance," they have openly said they hope Palestinian civilians die in droves while they steal aid and resell it at absurd mark-ups, while they flee to Egypt and Qatar so that they don't have to get their hands dirty. They recruit and brainwash young children to fight their "holy war" to murder as many Jews as possible.

And in terms of the death toll, you have to understand that this war is being fought in an urban environment where the belligerents are embedded purposely in the civilian population, in tunnels all throughout the civilian infrastructure. Violating the Geneva Conventions by using hospitals and schools as military bases, refusing to wear uniforms, and intentionally shooting their own people and blaming Israel.

These people even play tapes pretending to be hostages shouting in Hebrew "don't shoot," which is one of the reasons why a hostage was accidentally killed by the IDF, which is then turned around to show how evil the IDF is without understanding the context that these events happen in. In normal urban warfare the ratio of civilian to combatant death is around 9:1. In Gaza, the ratio is, according to Hamas's own numbers, 4:1. Literally twice as low as the average. So, yeah. War crimes are happening. Yes. Absolutely. Genocide is not happening, at least, it's not happening to the Palestinians.

[reality-detective]

Was the Baltimore Bridge attacked? 👇

The Baltimore bridge collapse was an “absolutely brilliant strategic attack” on US critical infrastructure - most likely cyber - & our intel agencies know it. In information warfare terms, they just divided the US along the Mason Dixon line exactly like the Civil War.

Second busiest strategic roadway in the nation for hazardous material now down for 4-5 years - which is how long they say it will take to recover. The bridge was built specifically to move hazardous material - fuel, diesel, propane gas, nitrogen, highly flammable materials, chemicals and oversized cargo that cannot fit in the tunnels - that supply chain now crippled.

Make no mistake: this was an extraordinary attack in terms of planning, timing & execution.

The two critical components on that bridge are the two load-bearing pylons on each end, closest to the shore. They are bigger, thicker and deeper than anything else. These are the anchor points and they knew that hitting either one one of them would be a fatal wound to the integrity of the bridge.

Half a mile of bridge went in the river - likely you will have to build a new one. Also caused so much damage to the structural integrity of the bottom concrete part that you cannot see & won’t know until they take the wreckage apart. Structural destruction is likely absolutely.

Attack perfectly targeted.

“They have figured out how to bring us down. As long as you stay away from the teeth of the US military, you can pick the US apart. We are an arrogant and ignorantly - lethal combination. Obama said they would fundamentally change America and they did. We are in a free-fall ride on a roller coaster right now - no brakes - just picking up speed.”

The footage shows the cargo ship never got in the approach lane in the channel. You have to be in the channel before you get into that turn. Location was precise/deliberate: They chose a bend in the river where you have to slow down and commit yourself - once you are committed in that area there is not enough room to maneuver.

Should have had a harbor pilot to pilot the boat. You are not supposed to traverse any obstacles without the harbor pilot.

They chose a full moon so they would have maximum tidal shift - rise and fall. Brisk flow in that river on a normal day & have had a lot of rain recently so water was already moving along at a good pace.

Hit it with enough kinetic energy to knock the load-bearing pylon out from under the highway - which fatally weakens the span and then 50 percent of the bridge fell into the water.

All these factors when you look at it  - this is how you teach people how to do this type of attack and there are so few people left in the system who know this. We have a Junior varsity team on the field.

Tremendous navigational obstruction. Huge logistical nightmare to clean this up. The number of dead is tragic but not the whole measure of the attack.

That kind of bridge is constantly under repair - always at night because there is so much traffic and they cannot obstruct that during the day. So concern is for repair guys who were on foot (out of their vehicles) working who may now be in the water - 48 degrees at most at this time of year.

When you choke off Baltimore you have cut the main north-south hazardous corridor (I-95) in half. Now everyone has to go around the city - or go somewhere else.

To move some of that cargo through the tunnel you may be able to get a permit but those are slow to get and require an escort system that is expensive and has to be done at night.

For every $100 dollars that goes into the city, $12 comes from shipping. Believe this will cripple the city of Baltimore at a time when they do not have the resources to recover.

- Lara Logan

The traffic issue was mentioned in this 👇 post

Maybe we have to dig deeper into this Bridge collapse further. Could it be a deeper issue? What's in those shipping containers? Who owns the ship?

Is it for this 👆

It has been 3 years and 3 days since the Evergreen blocked the Suez Canal. Does the number 33 mean anything?

Was this a "Black Swan Event?"

I'm just asking questions? 🤔

[aphrostarot]

Why Does This Energy Keep Coming Back Into Your Life?

Are there any energies that keep coming back into your life? If so, check out this reading to find out what lessons your guides are trying to teach you by bringing this back over and over again.

As this is a general collective reading, some things may not resonate with you or your situation. DO NOT try forcing it to fit. If you would like to book a personalized reading with me go to my profile and follow the instructions on my pinned post.

If you enjoyed this reading and wanted to support me further you can do so by tipping me in the link in my bio or by booking a personal reading with me.

Pile One:

Who are you?

Eight of Cups, Knight of Wands, and Five of Pentacles:

At your core you are someone who is very adventurous, energetic, and someone who is not afraid to leap into the unknown. You may be known in your circles as someone who has an enthusiastic approach to life. All of this being said though, you are not feeling like this in your current moment in life. You have been down in the dumps, experiencing a significant loss of some sort. You have been feeling lost, stuck in the dark with nowhere to go and this has taken its toll on you. For some of you, you are coming out of this darkness, finding yourself seeking deeper meanings for why you have been so stuck recently. You have abandoned the path you are on and are moving on to a different approach to life, trying to find your inner truth.

What is this energy that keeps coming back?

Four of Wands, Nine of Swords Reversed, and Death:

It seems like the energy that keeps coming back into your life is you finding yourself in a dark place unexpectedly. You will be riding a high in your life, feeling great and appreciating all the good in your life and then the next day you hate everything in your life and can’t seem to get out of a mental slump. For some of you, this could be burnout, but for many of you, this could be a lot of addictive behaviors and mindsets coming back after you thought you overcame them. It’s a constant death cycle you can’t seem to escape. These behaviors and mindsets may revolve around your family or home life. Addictions may run in your family which is why you also struggle, or, there may be a specific mindset or behavior pattern that you learned from your family and can’t seem to escape or unlearn no matter how hard you try.

Why does this energy keep coming back?

Page of Wands, King of Wands, and Six of Cups:

This energy keeps coming back because you are not learning the lesson that it is intended for you to learn. You need to dive into your childhood, look at the darkness you are not addressing, and sit with it. Sit with the discomfort that comes with these dark times. When you sit with these feelings you are forcing yourself to feel them, something you have not done in quite some time. Doing this will allow you to better understand where this darkness stems from so you can make a plan of how you are going to heal. Spirit keeps bringing this energy back to you because they want you to heal, so you can become your best self. If you need help doing this please reach out to a professional, you do not have to do this alone, therapists or counselors are great at helping you navigate hard emotions. With the King of Wands coming out too, this is your guides telling you who your best self is. The King of Wands represents someone who faces any problem in front of them with ease, they are a natural-born leader, someone who commands respect wherever they go. Your guides keep sending you this energy so that once you learn this lesson you will be able to face any problem that comes your way with ease. Know that there is light at the end of this tunnel, all you need to do is face this darkness instead of running from it. You are meant to break the cycles that have been in your family for centuries, let this knowledge guide you.

Advice from spirit on how you should approach this energy:

Ace of Swords Reversed, The Devil Reversed, and Nine of Cups Reversed:

The Ace of Swords coming up reversed means that your thoughts are clouded with confusion and chaos at the moment. This isn’t a good time for you to make any decisions, since you do not have clarity on what you should be doing, which means that the chances of failure are pretty high right now if you were to take any actions. Your guides are saying that it would be better for you to prepare yourself and take baby steps - work methodically as you slowly move towards achieving your goals. This is the perfect time to lay back and rationally think your way through each stage rather than acting on impulse which you are wont to do. They are also telling you that it is a good idea for you to seek advice from a professional since things may not be as they seem in your life currently. The Devil Reversed shows someone at a moment of self-awareness in their lives, they are breaking all of the chains that come with their addictions and poor habits. Your guides are saying that this can be you if you listen to their advice. They are tired of you running in circles and are telling you here, that you need change in your life. They say that breaking off these chains, especially those of addiction, is never easy. So, you need to be prepared to make the necessary changes that might initially seem painful to make the adjustments that will pay off in the end by being able to find your true self again. Self-assessment is called for in this case and you need to take some time and list all of the things that you need to get rid of. And once that has been done, then it will be time for you to embark on the difficult journey of self-improvement. Your path has been a hard one, and you’ve arrived at a period where you may have the appearance of fulfillment, but something else is missing. This may outwardly appear as smugness and can indicate your desire to receive attention and recognition for all that you have achieved. But you personally still feel dissatisfaction in yourself, it seems as though your desires are never-ending, a black hole. Where does this stem from? In what parts of yourself are you lacking confidence? The Nine of Cups reversed shows that it is time for you to stop placing a value on all of your blessings, and instead pay attention to the quality of your life. The true treasures lie in your relationships with those around you.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Page of Cups Reversed:

The Page of Cups reversed shows someone who is struggling. Someone who is afraid to face reality, be it emotional, financial, or some kind of illness. You may be escaping your reality by drinking, or using drugs, this is only making it harder for you to face yourself and your guides are sick of you ignoring your problems and are forcing this energy back into your life so you can learn to live a healthier lifestyle.

Some of you may be drawn to the colors; purple, blue, and pink.

I was getting strong pulls toward negative behaviors while pulling for this pile. Many of you may be struggling with addictions, including addictive behaviors and mindsets.

One of the candles I had lit stayed lit even when there was nothing left to burn. This tells me that many of you may be running on fumes, or could be someone who never gives up, no matter how low you go, you always pick yourself back up and keep going.

There was lots of Taurus energy with this pile so, many of you may have significant Taurus placements in your chart.

Wands represent the fire signs in astrology, so, many of you could be a fire sign, Aries, Leo, or Sagittarius, or could have significant fire sign placements.

Extended Reading (how can you learn these lessons and release this energy?)

Pile Two:

Who are you?

Nine of Coins, Four of Cups Reversed, The World, and Page of Swords:

You have reached an ending of some sort in your life. There has been a completion of a cycle that you have been living through for quite some time now. I feel as though many of you may not outwardly be aware that there is a completion happening in your life but, you feel it happening. There have been some internal shifts happening in you recently. Your outlook on life has changed, you have now started to see the world around you through a different lens and you are experiencing a spark of inspiration and joy you haven’t felt for quite some time. You are excited to jump into this new journey in life, looking forward to all the new things that are soon to be coming in. Many of you enjoy the finer things in life, enjoying a more luxurious lifestyle no matter how much money you have. Due to this lifestyle you chose to live in, you may struggle a great deal in life, struggling to make ends meet, struggling to feel satisfied with what you have. Whatever it may be, it seems to me this mindset may be the thing that will be changing for many of you. For some of you even, it may be that you will be changing your current mindset to start to appreciate the finer things in life if you currently do not allow yourself that luxury.

What is this energy that keeps coming back?

Knight of Coins Reversed, Judgment, The Emperor, The Tower Reversed:

It seems like the energy that keeps coming back into your life is you feeling like there is a crisis or some sort of disaster looming when there may actually not be one. You may be someone who likes having a routine but at the same time, you also get bored of the same thing very quickly. So, when you start to feel like you want to switch things up and try something new all of a sudden you get anxious, feeling like you just screwed everything up and you did something wrong. You fear change yet desire it at the same time which brings you to this energy that keeps coming back of you preparing yourself for the worst and expecting some sort of disaster to come in because you jumped the gun and made a spontaneous change. This leads to you overworking yourself, and making spontaneous decisions because during these moments you lack self-control. You are living in a constant state of survival during these times, not actually living your life only making decisions that you feel will protect you from this unavoidable doom that may not even be coming. Then all of a sudden it’s like the veil of confusion and fear that you’ve been living in gets lifted and you realize that you were living in a state of fear, letting your anxieties dictate your life. Then, you start to reflect on why this happens to you, trying to psychoanalyze yourself to hopefully get to the bottom of this so you can stop it from happening again, yet it never happens and this cycle keeps repeating itself.

The energy that keeps coming back into your life is very confusing and I tried my best to articulate it less confusingly. If you have any questions feel free to comment or DM me and I will try my best to answer them.

Why does this energy keep coming back?

Five of Swords Reversed, Five of Cups Reversed, Eight of Coins, and Ace of Wands:

The reason your spiritual team keeps bringing this energy back into your life is that there is something good coming out of it, yet you do not see that. There is something in your past that you have been feeling guilty or beating yourself up over. You have been struggling with this since it happened and you refuse to allow yourself to feel anything good because you feel you deserve to suffer because of whatever it is that you did. Now, this energy coming back is your guides wanting you to forgive yourself and heal but you are not seeing that. Your spiritual team wants you to start over and have a new more focused and inspired approach to life, but first, you need to forgive yourself and address whatever it is you are punishing yourself for.

Advice from spirit on how you should approach this energy:

Three of Coins Reversed, Eight of Cups, The Wheel of Fortune, and Six of Cups:

You’ve been feeling quite bitter in your life recently and your guides want you to see the beauty and goodness everywhere around you. They want you to challenge yourself by stepping out of your comfort zone. There is change coming in your life and this change will hopefully result in you leaving this negative mindset behind and embracing the positives around you. You have been feeling lost in your life and not recognizing that there are people in your life who are trying to help you. You have shut the door in many people's faces, refusing to believe they have good intentions, and to this, your guides are saying stop. Your guides have sent you a person or a few people who you need to stop shutting out in order to get you out of this darkness.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Nine of Swords:

The nine of swords is the card of intense anxiety. When it comes out in a reading, especially at the bottom of the deck, it represents mental anguish, nightmares, and excessive worry. It comes out in a reading when your anxiety has been at its worst. This has been the thing that has kept you in this darkness, refusing to forgive, refusing to heal. You need to do some self-reflection, and some calming and grounding exercises. Doing this will help you to see the reality instead of your anxieties. Some of you may need to speak to a professional to help you do this, whether it be a psychologist, therapist, counselor, or psychiatrist, please reach out to someone if you need help with your anxieties.

Some of you may be drawn to the color yellow.

There were a lot of reversals with this pile, so, many of you may be feeling like your life has been flipped upside down, or you may be feeling lost currently.

I was feeling strong unevolved Libra energy with this pile. So, many of you could be Libras or have significant Libra placements.

Extended Reading (how can you learn these lessons and release this energy?)

Pile Three:

Who are you?

Balance, Rebirth, and Messenger of Air:

You are an eternal optimist, believing that anything is possible as long as you put your mind to it. Finding balance within yourself is key to your joy and sense of peace. Speaking of peace, keeping yours is very important to you, and you will do anything to protect it. For most people, it can be difficult to let go of the past, or dreams that haven’t come true, or love that is no longer in our lives, but for you, this comes easily. You are not afraid to let things go if it means that you will come out better and healthier than before. You take pride in being able to live in a balanced and healthy state, and this is something that is admirable to the people around you.

What is this energy that keeps coming back?

Ace of Water, Craftsman of Air, and Three of Water:

There are moments in your life when you become filled with uncertainty and confusion. It's almost as if you are totally fine one minute and then the next you have a fog covering your brain and eyes and you get stuck as a result, not knowing what to do and why you are so confused about where you are in life. While you are in this brain fog, a great deal of emotions you had thought you’d dealt with come rising to the surface, forcing you to feel things you didn’t know you’d not dealt with. As a result of you being forced to feel these things, you become obsessed with trying to find a way to stop this from happening, studying therapy and meditation techniques trying to keep your peace maintained. Meanwhile, you are unaware that doing all of this is actually not helping you at all, which is why this energy keeps coming back into your life when you thought you’d already dealt with it.

Why does this energy keep coming back?

Two of Water, Ancestor, and Nine of Air:

As I established above, you are very proud of yourself and the ways in which you chose to heal and live your life. However, with the energy that your guides keep sending back, it seems to me that they are not happy with the ways that you choose to live. They are saying that you need a change in your life, a death cycle of some sort, and this death has to do with the cycles you keep repeating in your healing journey. They are saying to you that the ways you choose to heal are actually repetitive cycles that have been running through your ancestry for years and years and that they are not as healthy as you think they are. You need to address these issues and patterns you repeat when you try to deal with the problems as they arise. See these unconscious patterns from your childhood, the ways you cope with the traumas and sorrows you inherited from your parents, who inherited it from theirs.

Advice from spirit on how you should approach this energy:

Ace of Air, Four of Fire, Ten of Fire, and Messenger of Earth:

Your guides are advising you to slow down and listen. There are answers coming your way and all you need to do is listen for them. You have a strong intuition and psychic abilities but you are either unaware of this or just don’t tap into them enough, it is time that you do. You need security and peace in your home life and your guides want that to be your focus at the moment. Make sure you are intentionally getting rid of negative energy in your house, smoke cleansing with incense will work well for you during this time. Make sure you are aware of the energies you are allowing into your home at this time. Your home is your sanctuary and when you allow people with negative energy into your home you are tainting the sanctuary you so desperately need to protect.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Six of Water:

In all tarot readings, the bottom of the deck energy gives you the overall energy of the reading. Having the Six of Water at the bottom is telling you that you need to dive deep in order to get through this. You cannot redirect the river of Life. Instead, plunge in, surrender to it, dissolve in it, and allow the “molecules” of your expectations, plans, and intentions to mix with the waters flowing all around you. Let go and let your heart become a vessel of understanding. Let it hold the memories of your life of all life. To remember, you must allow the waters of life to flow through you. Begin now - fill the waters of your life with stories.

There is strong earth and water energy with this pile so, many of you may have earth (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) and water (Pisces, Cancer, Scorpio) signs or have these significantly placed in your chart.

Some of you may also be drawn to the colors, blue or green, mainly green.

Many of you may be drawn to water or trees.

Extended Reading (how can you learn these lessons and release this energy?)

Pile Four:

Who are you?

The World, Eight of Wands, and Knight of Wands Reversed:

There is some contradiction in who you are at this moment. What I mean by this is, at your core, you are someone who is well-balanced and has great control over your emotions as well as being very optimistic in life. However, it seems as though recently you have been more erratic, aggressive, and quite sensitive. You’ve been quick to jump down people's throats before giving them time to explain themselves. Lately, you haven’t been acting like your calm, cool, and mature self. Instead, you’ve been unrecognizable in your emotional outbursts. Some of you may know what has triggered this in you, while others have no clue why you are acting this way.

What is this energy that keeps coming back?

Four of Cups Reversed, Three of Wands Reversed, Ten of Wands, and Page of Cups Reversed:

You have reached completion of some sort, whether it be that you’ve recently graduated from college and are looking or just got a new job, starting your career off, or you just moved out of your family home and are taking on much more responsibilities than you had in the past. Whatever it is, this energy that keeps coming back is you overburdening yourself with too many responsibilities and then becoming blocked emotionally, and physically because of it. It’s like you were loving life and being hyper-successful one minute and then the next, you’re overworked, drained, and stuck in a never-ending cycle of lacking inspiration. For some of you, it may be that you start to despise the work you are doing or start to realize how you are underappreciated at work or in life and this causes you to become depressed. Either way, it seems as though the energy that keeps coming back ends up with you being stuck in darkness when you used to live in the light.

Why does this energy keep coming back?

Seven of Pentacles Reversed, Five of Pentacles Reversed, Six of Wands, and Eight of Pentacles:

Ultimately your guides are telling you that this energy keeps coming back because you have been putting too much emphasis on getting recognized for your achievements and being rewarded for your work when you really should be just focusing on the work and not the reward. They keep bringing this energy back to you so you can start to realize that you may be doing this job or hobby or hanging around these people for the wrong reasons. You want people to recognize how good you are and to praise you for these things and that is not the reason why you should be working or hanging around people. Success comes when you work hard and have your head in the game. So, your guides are trying to tell you here that to get what you want you need to make changes, you need to come at this with a different approach.

Advice from spirit on how you should approach this energy:

Four of Wands, The Fool, Ace of Wands, and Judgement:

Before this new beginning can come in, you need to do some self-evaluation. Really dig deep, and find out why you want this success and recognition. What is it feeding in you? It may have something to do with your home life, how you were raised, or the way your family treated you growing up. You will also need to evaluate if these things you are going after are things you truly want or, do you just think you want them to feel success and admiration. Once you do this you will need to come at your career and life overall from a new, clean slate. A whole new approach is needed for you to reach the goals you truly want.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Queen of Wands Reversed:

You have been in a low place overall in your life for some time now. You’ve been letting your insecurities control your life and the decisions you make. Because of this you’ve been very short-tempered and tend towards bullying either the people around you or yourself. You demand way too much of the people around you and of yourself and this is not a good place to be in. You know this, as I established above, this is not who you truly are at your core, you are a nice and gentle soul who loves life and loves people but, recently you have been showing a much darker and much more insecure version of yourself that needs to be dealt with for you to reach fulfillment.

There was very cutesy energy with this pile. It's almost like that sound on TikTok, “Looks like they could kill you, is a cinnamon roll” and, “Looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll” Some of you may hide your cutesy energy as a defense mechanism while others are more confident in themselves and aren’t afraid to be themselves.

The color pink, specifically baby pink may be of significance to some of you.

There was a lot of Pisces and Cancer energy with this pile, specifically unevolved Pisces and Cancer energy. A lot of you may be afraid of your emotions, afraid to feel, or you may see yourself as weak when you are emotional. There is also some Aries energy here, but very little, almost like you are a Pisces or Cancer with an Aries moon or other placements in Aries.

Extended Reading (how can you learn these lessons and release this energy?)

[velnna]

Dude (not trying to be passive aggressive I promise) I love Staeve with all my soul, I think he is very interesting, but the fact remains that he is always joined at the hip by Astarion or the rest of the BG3 cast, he has so much potential and it’s being limited by that, he is an original character but we know nothing about his origins except the classic ‘he spawned in the game’ and personally I would love to know more about him, where does he fit in your original works, etc

(If this posted twice I apologize bc my WiFi lagged and the worst possible moment )

Welllll I think it's more that I "tunnel vision" post a lot, not just with Staeve but with a lot of OCs. I zero in on a theme or a relationship and doodle a lot for it even if in the background that isn't even a super big part of their story or the work they're inserted in.

I also never make character sheets or anything like that (staeve having one is actually the exception) because 99% of the characters I draw are included in a wider story that I'm either actively working on as a comic or plan to turn into something of the sort at some point. It's sadly a slow process and every other bit of art you see out there is just instant gratification to keep me sane while doing it 🥲

As for Staeve in particular, two things: one, I'm not super good at this fanart thing. My attention span for worlds that don't spawn in my head is super limited so all I have of him within the BG3 universe is precisely a vague backstory and his interactions with the companions, and then shit I sorta half make up because I don't want to get super deep into lore I didn't create. Second, he does have a more fleshed out story I can elaborate on within the universe of my comic The Under Garden, but once again I'm not a fan of describing what's happening in my illustrations or the context at a large unless the post is specifically answering a question, so it's all.. vague for now. I haven't even decided fully if I want him to have horns in that setting or not lmao

So yeah you gotta take my posts with a grain of salt and trust that there's more to them, I'm just not good at giving them a lot of backing 😅 also sorry for the walls of text I'm a yapper through and through

[oceantornadoo]

mad max: the 141 (price x f!reader)

ch 2: your first night

canon-typical violence, sexual violence is referenced (but will not happen), general misogyny. the 141 are the good guys, just a bit rough around the edges

series masterlist (also has more world building info)

--

you reminded john of rabbits, creatures he'd heard about from campfire stories. your dress, like their fur, white as limestone. you were jumpy and small, fast as the devil. he could feel your legs tense against his, had felt it for the past three hours of the bike ride. ready to hop off and run, to take your chances in the sand and storm of the wasteland. he didn't blame you.

dusk had fallen as the 141 approached their home base. you were already jumping off his bike when he slowed down, eager to put space between the two of you. smart girl. john price did not consider himself a good man, even though he had met men much worse, men who were not man at all. sometimes, he felt that same instinct lurking underneath him, just out of reach.

base was just a small outcropping of rocks. this couldn't be right. suddenly, gaz had disappeared from your view. then, silent as his name, ghost did as well. your eyes finally adjusted to the quick coming darkness and you took in the sight before you. a hole in the ground, covered with a metal frame. a door to the underground. they had hidden their bikes behind the rocks, the shadows playing tricks on your mind. any traveler would pass this place without a second thought. the captain (you still didn't know his name) hid his bike in a similar matter, then gestured to the hole. "down you go." like alice in wonderland, you thought, images of your precious century-old books coming to mind. you jumped.

gaz caught you gracefully. you murmured your thanks, still unused to having male hands touch you so easily. you were no longer a shiny piece of metal on the shelf, you had been taken down for play. in any sense of the word.

electric lighting flickered around the cavern. there were several tunnels leading into the distance, further underground. you stood in a common area, the group's supplies scattered throughout the room. it was lived in but clean, a rarity in a world like yours. the air smelled the opposite of dryness, almost like-

"water?" the captain was offering you drinking water from a canteen. you looked up at him in confusion. "real water?" ghost grunted an affirmation from somewhere in the vicinity, but you were too busy locking eyes at the captain to get specifics. his eyes were so focused on you, so unaware of the kindness of his gesture. was he prepping you for a future as his wife? that must be it. must be why he was so concerned about your period. either way, you were dehydrated from the long drive and took the canteen greedily, slurping at the water. unprincesslike behavior, not fit for a wife, but you didn't care. he'd get what he paid for.

"how do you have water?" your voice croaked slightly from disuse, the water smoothing out the cracks in your throat. "springs. down one of the tunnels. s' why it smells damp. s' our little secret, yeah?" you gaped at gaz's response. with access to a hot spring, they could be kings. they could have a hundred wives each, slaves in the thousands, become kings of the springs in their own right. yet they made small attacks of shipping trades and deals for princesses of gastown? you didn't understand. they seemed to lack the innate violence you thought was required of human nature, of the existence of man.

"long day, yeah? let's regroup tomorrow." the captain led you down the tunnel as you quickly said goodnight to the other outlaws. despite your propensity to save water, your palms grew sweaty. this was when it happened. this was when he'd take you to bed and make you a wife. or at least someone to get mother's milk from. you hoped he'd be somewhat gentle, hoped the other's wouldn't hear your screams. you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't notice the captain had stopped, directing you to a bedroll.

"would you be gentle, please? if i can ask? i won't ask for anything else." your voice sounded tinny in the room, as if another had asked it. the only sound was the echo of the far off spring. the captain paused his state of undress, clothed in only his underwear. you averted your eyes, quelling any attraction that bubbled up in your belly. you were a virgin, had been groomed to be one, but you had had other experiences with some men in gastown. you knew the electricity of attraction, the zing of the moment. you reminded yourself that the captain was your owner, not your lover, and that quickly ended any other feelings.

"gentle, love? what d'ya mean?" he was sprawled on the bedroll, all muscle and fat and hair. his body corded with the results of labor, hidden under a layer of fat that showed his status. you shrugged back your shoulders, reminding yourself you were a princess. "when you bed me." he let out a bark of laughter, turning you shy. were you too proper? you didn't like the other words men used, your stepfather used, when they talked about the act. they felt dirty on your tongue, like spending a night in the desert sand. "'m not gonna fuck you, love." fuck. he said it almost lovingly, like he revered it. tongue tracing the vowels like he'd traced your stomach earlier.

"then...the belt? you bought me?" he patted the bed roll and you finally laid down next to him, less afraid of him now. "'s all politics, sweetheart. i don't fuck people who don't want me inside them. if you ask me, i'll fuck you good. but only then." people. as in not just women. not unheard of, but never blatantly referenced. you wondered about the other outlaws, images of them undressed and sweaty under the captain coming to mind. with the casualness in their interactions, you weren't surprised. some part of your brain, a part you had thought was long gone when you had been sold, conjured another image. being shared. just like that you shivered in the cold dampness, and it was gone.

"body heat. come on." you finally laid against him, back touching his bare chest. he covered you with the threadbare blanket, slinging his arm around your waist and the other under your head. like a personal pillow. the thought was so insane you almost giggled, and he relaxed at the feel of your body calming. his rabbit was finally less jittery, ready for bed. his paw spread against your stomach, callouses brushing against soft skin. he reveled in the feel of your stomach, not concave like most in the wasteland. his pampered princess, cuddled against one of the most feared outlaws in the land. you covered his hand with your own, brushing against the hair there. he nuzzled your neck, memorizing your scent. the sound of it sent a bolt of arousal straight to your core, but you ignored it.

"goodnight, captain." no wonder you were so scared of him. he hadn't told you his name. "s' john, love." your throat hitched. john. "goodnight, john." he hummed against your skin, his own personal goodnight back.

you fell into a dreamless sleep, the events of the day washing in and out. until the atmosphere changed, the feeling of being watched waking you up. you felt john adjust behind you, the feeling of his body draped around you. you could even feel his cock lay heavy against your ass, resting. your eyes blinked open through the darkness of the cave, searching. and you found it in the man sitting a few feet away, cloaked behind a red mask in the shape of a skull, mohawk standing straight.

you screamed.

--

i don't usually write virgin readers but i felt like it made sense for this world. going to try to make it a small deal so every kind of reader can relate. shorter chapter, hoped yall enjoyed!

[the-kr8tor]

Oh my god i was scrolling through instagram and now i want lifeguard hobie x reader or lifeguard reader x hobie. Like either would be cute and imagine they start talking more and more. Think of how cute itd be. Maybe itd both be when they were teens and now they are looking back on it. Young summer romance and love? And now it could be fast forward where they are at the beach together instead of the pool one of them had worked as a lifeguard at. Heksndnekdksjeabandsk

I chose the first one! Thank you for requesting, bestie! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You've been up and down the same whirly slide for at least an hour. It's not even that special, the slide, it's just an ordinary one that has a drop and a short loopty loop. It's so common that there's only a handful of people lining up for it, they prefer to go down the most popular one that has the strobe lights and a hundred feet long tunnel.

You've been going on it for how many times that you've lost count and going down the slide isn't even as fun anymore. The number of times you've gone up and down has significantly made it less thrilling. You're sure that your friends might think you're crazy because you've left them for a water park slide. But they don't know that it isn't the slide that you've grown fond of, it's the hot lifeguard that keeps smiling and making conversation at you while you're in line.

Your hair clings to your wet face and you stink of chlorine but the lifeguard that you only know from his nametag still beams at you like you're the only person in the entire water park. ‘Ned’ once again greets you at the top of the slide, chiseled face shining in the late afternoon sun. It's that late and you have no idea or concept of time anymore because of the fit bloke talking to you about how Olympic synchronized swimmers need to put gelatin in their hair so it doesn't mess up their routine and thermodynamics.

“A bit weird, innit?” He taps the yellow floatie in his arms, rubber squeaking as the familiar rush of water filters in your ears. “Imagine me using that instead of hair gel before a show. Less mess I bet,” he blinks, the cogs in his head turning. “Huh, I guess it's not that bad. It'll last longer too.”

You look behind you, expecting a few people waiting their turn, to your happiness, you find no one. You've got the slide all to yourself, or him for that matter. “I guess so, but wouldn't it be hard to take it off?” You're intrigued by the word ‘show.’ Your new friend has a side you never knew in the last two hours you've been chatting with him.

“I might buy one of those little shovels to get rid of them.” He shrugs, and you tilt your head, wanting to get to know eachother better especially now that the water park is about to close. “Just scoop it out y’know.” He gestures like he's digging in his head.

“Or you could ask for help.” Your heart hammers in your chest, hoping, praying to any entity out there listening to you that he wants to know you too.

He chuckles, piercings shining, laugh rumbling in his throat. “You volunteerin’?”

You inhale, trying to act nonchalant by leaning over the mouth of the slide. Arms crossed on your torso, you finally ask. “If you want to, I'm curious about those shows you're in.”

Nodding, his heart pounds with excitement. “I'm in a band, love. If you'd do me the honour.” Your hands are getting sweatier and sweatier, you don't notice your body slowly sliding downwards. “Do I have to dunk my hair in gelatine so you'd come to our show next week on Friday at the white horse pub at eight pm?”

“It's not a prerequisite. And that was very smooth, Ned, very smooth.”

His loud laugh echoes, you're sure that the entire park heard it louder than the thrumming of your heart and your big fat crush on the lifeguard. “Thanks, love, but uh,” he leans forward, you can see every green speck in his hazel eyes. “My name isn't Ned.”

“W-what?” With one wrong foot over the other, you slip and fall inside the slide, ‘Ned’ gets smaller and smaller by the second you're inside. “What's your name then?!” Your voice echoes inside the plastic, warbling as you go down the slide. “Fuck!” You plunge into the pool, water in your ears and eyes as you swim up and cough out chlorine filled water. “Goddamnit,” you splash the water with your hands, frustrated that you might've lost who could've been the love of your life. At least you know where his band would be playing.

“It's Hobie.” His voice suddenly appears above you, hand reaching downwards to help you. Chest noticeably heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. He ran down the long steps to get down to you as fast as he could.

“What?” You splutter, not the most attractive thing to do.

“My actual name, it's Hobie.” ‘Hobie’ points at his nametag. “I nicked this from a friend so I could get in for free, the manager found me so now I had to work a shift. But I could think of one good thing that happened to me today though.” His smug smile makes you hide under the water.

“You could've started with that, Hobie.” You reach towards his helping hand. “You do not look like a Ned—!” With a pull, you yank him inside the pool. You laugh, and he resurfaces drenched from head to toe.

“Cheeky.” He wipes his palms on his eyelids and he blinks at you standing over him.

“I'll see you on friday, Hobie?” You saying his name is music to his ears, or that might be the water in his ears. But the sight of you with the backdrop of the cotton candy orange sky makes his thwarted evil plan all worth it. “I'll bring the gelatine.”

“And I’ll brin' the little shovel.” Hobie smiles up at you. Maybe he should bring something nice to Ned as a thank you and compensation for almost getting him fired.

[myfriendpokey]

tunnel notes

i wrote some extra little notes and thoughts for the bonus tunnels in anthology of the killer, and then removed them before release; i didn't like the prescriptive feeling of leaving that stuff in the "final package" as if it was something people should feel obligated to engage with. but as of today it's been 30 days since the loader came out, so i figured i'd dump some of them online, for the benefit of whoever is interested in these things.

History: HISTORY IS A NIGHTMARE FROM WHICH I AM TRYING TO AWAKE is one of many famous zingers given to Stephen in Ulysses and I’ve always wondered if it’s especially Irish as a sentiment, Ireland sort of feeling like the “Oops! All Peasants” edition of European history as a whole – same misery, exploitation and death minus the occasional episodes of feudal colour or triumphant empire-building that seem to make the past tolerable for other people, and give them their own sense of demarcated time. But then I’ve never been much good on Irish history, which has always just felt like an interminable, indistinguishable series of massacres and betrayals and missed shots. Was I not paying attention or was this how it was taught in school? Well, it would have fit the style at the time – I was born in 1989, smack at the start of the famous end of history era. The 90s in Ireland meant the peace process and infusion of American capital to our backwards shores, all the more reason to cosign the idea of an abrupt and permanent break with a history notably lacking in the non-depressing or picturesque. All our history textbooks seemed to trail off at the point we’d joined the EEA. And even as this new modernity just started seeming like the monstrous antiquity dressed up in different clothes – hooded prisoners transported to torture sites through Shannon airport, our patchy social infrastructure dismantled by burghers, ghost estates and half-completed monuments scattered around like the ruin theory of value with more leprechaun imagery – there was still a sense that any change was off the table. You didn’t want to drag us back into history, did you? History seemed to have “ended” in the same sense Freddy Krueger did – done away with in ways that none of the grown-ups ever wanted to talk about, and now officially a non-presence, even if all the kids in town were mysteriously disappearing.

--

Art: One reason I wanted to do an episodic series is just to see what would turn up, if any recurring interests would build despite a minimum of planning. One of the themes turned out to be, “art” – or specifically modernist art – and I am curious about why that would be. A recurring tendency in modernism was the idea that only by destroying the world as it currently existed could we clear space for anything better to emerge. Under the cobblestones, the beach! But this was always attended by a kind of fear: that clearing away the old structures would just allow something even worse to emerge, unmasked. Under the cobblestones, more corpses! And that the bleakest tendencies of the period would now run free without even the emptiest symbolic constraints to chafe against. Max Ernst’s painting of the fascist victory in Spain, of a huge, grinning oaf rampaging over the landscape like a kaiju while a miserable birdlike figure remains haplessly grafted to its leg – is titled both “The Angel Of Hearth And Home” and “The Triumph Of Surrealism”. As if to suggest that these are each the same thing, as though a cause of creative liberation worth devoting your life to and an empty cliché of domestic repression had so little light between them as to not even be worth the effort of distinguishing.

Part of the reason works like that make their way into the games in little ways is because I just like them, and go back to thinking about them. But the status of modernism in the 21st century is an odd one; the most tentative and inventive parts got dropped, while the brashest and stupidest aspects curdled into a kind of official state ideology – the idea of “creative destruction”, which just seems to mean a vague sense that it’s punk rock to create ridesharing apps. The monkey’s paw curled and the emptiest version of the modernist credo became something we all have to live with.. and yet I still can’t help but be moved by the source works and the goofy, ridiculous temerity of that wish to transfigure the world. sometimes it feels like only way to keep faith with those ideas is to travesty them, to try returning to them some of that sense of fear and doubt without which they just sound like so many web design agency manifestos. Kept alive in the breast of so many grimacing waxworks, underground.

Another reason to put this stuff in a horror game: to try getting at that feeling in a dream of looking in the eyes of people you know, people you love, and seeing nothing there anymore, seeing them look right past you. An earlier horror game idea I used to think about would have ended with the protagonist being dismembered and eaten by Gertrude Stein.

--

The moral: I’ve seen people express a sense, now, that merely working in the negative is not enough; to just outline what’s bad without also trying to give a vision of the good, some glimpsed utopia to shoot for. For the benefit of these people here is an epilogue. Imagine it’s the future and the long nightmare of prehistory is over; history proper unfolds as the full expression of human powers unhindered by material subjugation. Some students are given an assignment by a professor to investigate the meaning of a term that no longer exists, the meaning of horror. Well, the students do their best: they watch lots of old movies, put on rubber masks, comb through old fragments of the world that was. They’re enjoying themselves and that enjoyment warps the process, they keep drifting into pleasure, unsure what’s meant to be funny and what’s not. They get lost, get confused, lose the thread, famous faces appear under the wrong names, espousing things that are the opposite of whatever they believed. In the end they all have to admit defeat: they hand in their assignment with a note saying that in the new world, we can’t even imagine what horror may have been. The professor reads their findings, nods, and gives them all an F. No moral.

[image source: James Ensor, "The Intrigue"]

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Though We're Strangers 'Til Now

And now for something completely different! Now I want you guys to do me a favour here, and I need you to picture this fic as having like, a BBC Saturday night family show budget. I’m specifically talking Atlantis, but if you’ve not seen Atlantis (like most people), think Merlin. I wrote Edwin and Charles’ voices entirely as I’d write them in canon-verse, with nearly no regard to the fact I was transplanting them into ancient Greece, so it’s VERY important to me that you embrace the Camp. This is a styrofoam dungeon. Charles is about to meet his destiny in a labyrinth that’s just a quarry in Wales. The historical outfits all have zips up the back. Get on board with the vibe. This one goes out to @every-moment-a-different-sound, who not only made me aware of Painland week as a thing but also approached me for a collab! Go check out their FUCKING GORGEOUS GIFS for this fic!!! This fic quite literally wouldn’t exist without them, Robin you fuckin' rule 💛 4.7k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

The dungeon was a proper dingy place. Charles wondered if that's where they got the name from. Dingy, dungeon. Too similar to be a coincidence, right?

Lying on his back on the hard wood pallet, head on his hands, he stared at the pale moonlight bleeding through the window. 'Window' was being a bit generous; it was more of a slit in the wall. Narrow, barred, so high he could've stood on tiptoes and barely brushed it with his fingertips. But at least it was big enough to let in that light. He supposed he was lucky. Between the sliver of moonlight and the sputtering candle in the hallway past the wall of bars, he was bloody spoiled. He didn't know exactly where they were sending him tomorrow, but he had a pretty strong hunch that it would be dark. The kind of dark that drove men mad. Maybe the madness would get him before the bloody great beast in the tunnels got the chance.

Seemed a bit off, really. Putting him in the dingy dungeon when he bloody volunteered for this. Maybe they thought he'd change his mind and leg it in the night. Any half-sensible person would, wouldn't they? No one had ever given Charles an earful for having common sense, though. Usually the opposite.

No running away for him, that's for sure. He was bedded down for the night, just him and a handful of snoring cellmates. Despite the panic and crying, the six other lads had managed to drift into some kind of sleep, however uneasy. Not Charles, though. Too much on his mind. The stupid idea that brought him here in the first place. The near certainty that he'd fail, in the end, and he’d have no one but himself to blame for his bloody demise.

Wasn’t all bleak thoughts, though. After all, there was always him.

The prince.

He closed his eyes, letting it all play out in his head again. Stepping off the boat, being 'greeted' (shackled and marched to the dungeons) by the 'welcoming committee’ (royal guard). Him and thirteen other boys and girls, thanked like heroes and handled like criminals. The king in all his fancy regalia, booming his solemn gratitude to the brave youths for their sacrifice — as if any one of them but Charles had any choice in it. And standing there, at the king's back...

Look, Charles may have had more important things to think about, but he knew a fit lad when he saw one.

Fit didn't even cover it. The boy was just about the most gorgeous thing Charles had ever seen — or ever would see. Unless he spotted a prettier one before he died tomorrow, that is. Bit unlikely.

There was just something about him, the prince. Charles wasn't even into the posh sort, generally. Like with the more well-to-do lads from his own town — something about the baked-in entitlement soured them. Made them ugly, even if they were objectively alright looking. He could smile politely and play nice, but he’d sooner kiss a frog than a rich merchant’s kid. And a prince was a pretty big step up from a merchant's son, wasn't he? By rights he ought to be even worse. Charles probably didn't even register as a human to him. He wasn’t worth wasting a thought on.

Except Charles could still picture him perfectly, in his head. He could play out the whole welcome start to finish. How Charles' heart, all shrivelled in fear, had jumpstarted soon as he clapped eyes on the prince.

"Charles..."

He'd had dark hair all perfectly combed into an inky shine, almost prettier than the gold crown on top of it. Eyes like sea glass, clear and green and shining with a cunning light; eyes that had scanned the line of offerings and landed on Charles. Fixed him with such an intense, curious scrutiny he'd actually felt himself blush.

Hadn't Charles seen him somewhere before? That chin, that nose, those high cheekbones? He could've sworn he'd walked past him at a temple somewhere, carved from pristine marble. He could see him so clearly in his mind's eye, surely he must've known him all his life.

"Charles...?"

If he concentrated, really concentrated, he could even hear his voice...

"Charles Rowland!"

Blimey, that was scary. That sounded real.

Charles blinked his eyes open and frowned. He let his head flop to the side and looked across the cell, where the stone wall gave way to bars.

There, framed by iron and flickering candlelight, there he stood. Pretty as a picture — baffling as a dream.

Charles sat up, slow, cautious. He almost said something proper stupid, like 'what's a nice boy like you doing in a dungeon like this?'

"Um," he fumbled. "Evenin'?"

Mm. Not much better, really, was it?

"Evening, your highness?" he corrected himself, with a wince. Gods, his old man would've walloped him good and proper for talking to a royal like that.

Prince Edwin, however, didn't sneer or snap or even walk away. It was hard to see his face, at a distance in the gloom, but he almost looked amused. Charles thought he could see the barest shadow of a lifted lip, anyway.

"Good evening," said the prince. He said it so quiet, barely above a whisper, but his crisp tone carried regardless. He cocked his head slightly and beckoned with a finger. "Might I have a word?"

Charles glanced behind himself. Just on the off-chance there was another Charles Rowland he didn't know about squeezed onto the narrow bed with him. There wasn't, obviously, and he was a good few feet from any of his sleeping cellmates. No mistaking who the prince was after. He swallowed, stood up, and crept across the uneven flagstones, stepping over the sprawled legs of another boy.

As he neared, as the situation sank in and the prince came into focus, a new bundle of nerves started kicking off. Nothing like the anxious dread that had been stewing in his gut all night, the 'oh, gods, they're feeding me to a monster in the morning' nerves. No, this was different. More familiar but also, weirdly, worse than the monster dread. Fuck, but this lad was gorgeous. Not even the dungeon gloom could hide it. He was almost blinding to look at — and now those clever eyes were fixed right on Charles, no one else. Nowhere to hide. Fuck, Charles probably had sweat and cellar grime all over his face, and all!

Charles came to a standstill, toes almost touching the bars. Up close, he could see that him and the prince were about the same height. Edwin might've had the advantage by an inch or so, but maybe that was just his perfect posture. Spine straight and shoulders back, he regarded Charles with his head curiously cocked and his hands steepled. For a royal, he wasn't dressed all that flashy. Hadn't gone in for any jewellery besides the gilded circlet on his head. And under the blue silk chlamys clasped at his shoulder, his chiton was a simple white, clean and sharp and draped neatly to knee length. Expensive, pristine, put-together, but not exactly ostentatious. Mind you, that's just the sliver of outfit that Charles could see — because the prince had topped the whole thing off with a thick, practical brown cloak. A peacock disguised as a pigeon.

After a moment's quiet contemplation, the prince finally spoke. "I'm told you volunteered," he said. He kept his voice down, but it stayed crisp and clear. Highborn through-and-through. Probably wasn't even capable of mumbling.

Charles supposed it was a bit unusual, but unusual enough to bring a prince skulking down to the dungeons? He reckoned he was right about Edwin's eyes, that cleverness in them — he wasn't just a pretty face under a crown. He wanted to know things. He was staring at Charles like he wanted to pick him apart, understand him.

"Yeah," Charles answered. He forced a grin. "Not my best idea."

The prince blinked and leaned a little closer, intrigued. "Why in the world would you volunteer for this?"

His attention was sort of a lot — but it felt... good. Charles wanted to keep it. Hold onto it. He wanted this clever, gorgeous lad to think he was the most fascinating thing in the room.

Charles shrugged. "I can fight. I can take a hit. Seemed like the right thing to do. The decent thing, yeah?"

Edwin narrowed his eyes. "You’d forfeit your life to... give the beast a fight for its food?"

Charles shifted on his feet. "Not... exactly."

The prince watched him, all expectant. Charles sighed.

"Years it's been going on," he said, barely a mumble — Edwin leaned a little closer still to listen. "Lads and lasses being packed off, fed to that thing to keep it happy. Not right, is it? And I thought, well..."

He'd thought a lot of things. He'd thought well, he was already getting the shit beaten out of him every other day, so what's a little mauling on top of it? He'd thought about being his father's son, with his father's temper, and how maybe that could be a good thing for once. He'd thought about how things could change for him if he came back — and about who would even miss him if he didn't. He'd thought of all those kids less deserving than him, sent miles from home to be ripped to shreds. Sent away from bright futures and families that loved them. Gentle types who'd never hurt a fly. Kids who'd never learned to take a beating. Kids who didn't have the anger to keep them alive. Kids who weren't monster enough to survive the real thing.

"I thought, well, I'm pretty good in a scrap," he said, brightly, plastering on a smile. "Pretty stubborn. Thought if I went down there, maybe I could..."

"Could what?"

Charles raised his eyebrows.

Edwin looked at him blankly.

Charles rolled his eyes, held up one hand, and punched his fist into it twice.

Edwin's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You mean to... slay the minotaur?"

"Told you it wasn't my best idea," said Charles.

"You have a talent for understatement," said Edwin, a sharp hiss. His voice had quickened and thinned into a hushed, incredulous patter. "I'd go so far as to describe that idea as fatuous, hubristic, and downright suicidal!"

Charles snorted. "Yeah. Sounds about right." He leaned his shoulder against the bars, brought his face closer to the prince's — which was such a brilliant idea it immediately gave him a really, really bad one. So bad it was impossible to resist.

He gave him a lax, lopsided grin — the one that he could bring out back home to make the girls giggle. "Be good if it worked, though, wouldn't it?"

Coming onto a bloody prince like he was some blushing farm lad... well, it probably wasn't a worse idea than throwing himself into a minotaur's labyrinth, but it probably wasn't much better, either. But what did it matter? They couldn't punish him, could they — they were already feeding him to a monster in the morning. What did he have to lose? Why not take a crack at the handsome prince with the pretty eyes? Sod it, it was his last night on Earth.

Edwin, to Charles' immense glee, actually seemed to get a little pink in the face. His eyes darted away and back again. "Yes, well..." He cleared his throat and straightened his cloak with a sharp tug of the front. "Have you a plan? Tactics? A weapon, at the very least?"

"Um. Well. No, not really." He dropped his fist on the bars once, twice, mulling it over. "But, I have been told my smile's pretty disarming!"

If his clumsy flirting hadn't been enough to break through the regal composure, that would've done it. Edwin's mouth dropped open a little, his brows drawing close together as he stared at Charles in abject disbelief. "Dear gods," he said, voice light and brittle. "You're doomed."

Charles chuckled, resting his forehead against the bars. "Yeah. Suppose so. Won't go down without a fight though, eh?"

He looked up through his eyelashes and found Edwin still staring, lips parted just a bit. Fuck, he had nice lips. Kissable. Charles reckoned he’d miss kissing when he was dead. What was the sentence for stealing a kiss from a prince — was it worse than death by minotaur? He might be willing to risk it.

Edwin tore his gaze away and glanced down the hall, first one way, then the other. Furtive. He seemed to come to some kind of decision. "Charles," he whispered. "Are your cellmates all asleep?"

Pulse quickening, Charles forced his eyes away from the prettiest person in the room to have a glance at the others. Everyone looked the same as they had before. Same chorus of snores and soft breaths and muttered, whimpered nightmares. "Yeah. Yeah, I reckon so."

"Right. Excellent." Edwin cleared his throat again and crowded closer to the bars.

Charles' heart was racing. He couldn't lean any closer to the bars than he already was but he wanted to. He didn't mean to, but he bit his lip, eyes flickering down to Edwin's mouth.

Edwin took another wary glance behind him, and tugged his cloak back. He reached inside. His hand closed around something under his arm and drew it out — something long and wrapped in leather.

Charles caught his breath.

"Take it," Edwin ordered, holding the hilt of the sword to the bars and looking Charles in the eye. "Quickly, and quietly."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He grabbed it, his fingers grazing Edwin's. Gods, he even had beautiful hands. Smooth on the back but a bit calloused on the pads. Didn't escape Charles' notice that the blade, though heavy, seemed to be a familiar weight in his hands.

"Cheers, mate," Charles breathed, drawing the cumbersome thing through the gap. If he was careful, he reckoned he could stash it under his thin cloak without anyone knowing.

He hadn't meant to call the gorgeous boy (who also happened to be fucking royalty) mate, but if Edwin was offended he didn't show it. In fact he ducked his head in a bashful little dip. It was so endearing Charles had to do another quick pros-and-cons list in his head about the risks of snogging him through the bars.

"Well," said Edwin, a forced lightness in his tone. "If you must embark upon this fool's errand, you must have the proper equipment."

Charles let out a ragged breath. "Thank you," he said, sincere, as he slid the scabbard through his belt. He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head. "To be honest, I've... I've never been more scared in my life."

Edwin's shrewd gaze softened. His whole face did. It actually bowled Charles over a little bit, the difference. He felt like he ought to look away, like he was seeing something he shouldn't. A prince shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not him. Like he was something special. Something he was in awe of. "I can only imagine."

Charles bit his lip. "Less scared, now," he said, fidgeting with the hilt of the sword. Even though he felt a bit like he'd been flayed open and laid at the prince's feet, he still managed a wink. "Reckon I'll show that big bugger what's what with this thing, don't you?"

The prince’s eyes twinkled over his small, indulgent smile. "Oddly enough... yes. I believe you just might." He seemed to catch himself, a pretty blush high on his cheeks as he schooled his expression back into something a bit more lofty. "And quite a feather in your cap it will be. That beast has been a thorn in my father's side for years, holding the kingdom to ransom."

Edwin's gaze flickered over Charles, head to toe, and the pretty blush deepened. "If you were to end its reign of terror, you'd be more than deserving of a handsome reward."

"Oh, yeah?" said Charles. If he sounded breathless, it's 'cause he was. "What sort of reward?"

He felt dazed. He must've been dreaming. Five minutes ago he was accepting his fate, and now he'd been brought a fighting chance. By a gorgeous prince. Who was fucking flirting with him. They must've knocked his head on the bars when they shoved him in the cell — he was probably lying in the corner, drooling and babbling.

Edwin's eyes were restless, darting from Charles' face to his feet. His throat bobbed around a dry swallow. He looked too real to be a dream — but also too good to be true. His hand lifted, fingers resting on an iron bar between them.

"Well," he said, sounding pretty bloody breathless himself. "You could take your pick."

If this wasn't a dream, it was definitely a trick. Some rich kid teasing him, waiting to pull away at the last second and laugh at him for being so easy to string along. Or waiting for an excuse to run to his daddy and bag Charles a fate worse than death for getting fresh with him.

Except for whatever reason, he didn't believe that. Couldn't. For some reason, he trusted Edwin. Felt like he knew him. Like he'd always known him. And he knew he was kind. Not necessarily nice, but kind. For whatever reason he knew Edwin wasn't the sort to mess around with someone's feelings — or pretend to be interested when he wasn't.

Why he'd be interested in Charles of all people was another thing, but... sod it. Charles was probably gonna die tomorrow, anyway. Why not pretend it was possible for a minute? What the fuck did he have to lose?

Feeling once again like the undisputed king of bad decisions, Charles took a breath, and put his hand on top of Edwin's. He almost couldn't believe his luck when Edwin didn't pull away. His hand was soft — like the little gasp he let out when their skin touched.

Swallowing past his dry mouth, Charles laced their fingers. He let them lay there, woven on the bars; the warp and weft of it felt so right he wondered how they hadn't been doing this for years. How'd he gone this long, not realising how empty his hands were without Edwin's tangled up inside them?

He looked at Edwin's face and saw all his own thoughts reflected. Saw Edwin staring at their hands like they were a bloody marvel. Like the last piece of a puzzle had clicked into place. His face was so open, so alive — so gently amazed and Charles had never wanted to kiss someone more in his life.

Charles laughed, quiet, awed. "Handsome prize, alright."

That earned him another quick, coy duck of Edwin's head — but Charles could see him preening clear as day. "Be sure you're alive to claim it," he said, soft and serious. He squeezed Charles' hand once before breaking the hold.

Charles sketched a lazy salute to distract his hand from how empty it felt. "No dying. Right-o."

Edwin smiled. A proper smile; a quick flash of teeth breaking through his tight-lipped, regal composure. Charles would've fought the bloody titans to get another glimpse of it.

"You are... odd," said Edwin, matter-of-factly. "And quite mad, I suspect."

"...Cheers?"

Humming, Edwin reached into his cloak once more. "There is just one other thing..."

He brought out something small from a pouch at his waist. Something round, with a leather cord threaded through the middle and tied off in a loop. Edwin held it aloft, thumb and forefinger pinched through the handle. The little round something glowed silky gold in the candlelight, and Charles squinted at it.

"...String?" he asked.

Edwin nodded, reaching into the cell to take Charles' hand and draw it through the bars. His touch lingered as he placed the generous clew of fine, shimmering string in Charles' palm.

"I had the idea that if you were to unspool it behind you, perhaps you might be able to navigate the labyrinth with greater ease." Head bowed, he looked at Charles through his lashes. Pretty, fluttering things they were, charcoal black. "So that when you slay the beast, you might find your way back."

Charles gawped at him. "Mate. That's proper smart."

Edwin preened again — actually, he preened more than he had when Charles' complimented his looks. Handy to know. "Yes, I thought it rather a sensible idea. I spun it myself; I’ve been experimenting with the tensile strengths of different fibres. It shan’t break."

Charles grinned, closing his hand around the clew — and Edwin's fingers, too. "Brains and beauty, eh?" he said. "Where've you been all my life?"

Edwin went pinker, his eyes twinkled. Warmer than the candlelight, brighter than the moon.

Charles would have to offer up a prayer tonight to any god who might be listening. He'd do anything, give them anything, if they only promised to get him through tomorrow alive. He needed at least a thousand more days ahead of him, just to spend finding more and ingenious ways of making this boy smile at him.

Soon, too soon, Edwin sighed, reluctantly extricating his hand from Charles'. "I must go," he said, apologetic. "Questions will be asked if I'm discovered down here in the dead of night."

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course." Charles let his hand fall to his side, clenching it around the thread — still warm from Edwin's hand. He laughed, softly. "Well, um. Thanks for... dropping in?"

"And thank you for your discretion," said Edwin, raising his eyebrows as he drew his cloak back around him. "I'm sure I need not impress upon you the fact that I was never here."

Charles mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Good. Very good." Edwin shifted his weight between his feet a moment, finger lifting, mouth opening as if he had more to say. But whatever it was, he thought better of it. He drew his hands into fists in front of him, pressed together knuckle to knuckle, and offered a tight smile instead. "Well... best of luck, Charles Rowland. I truly hope you find fortune on your side."

With a stiff bob of his head, he turned fluidly on his heel to walk away. And it hit Charles again, hard, right between the eyes. The possibility that tomorrow could be his last day alive. A few minutes ago, the idea hadn't bothered him much.

Fuck. It bothered him, now.

"Edwin," he said, almost losing control of his volume as desperation sunk its hooks into him. He grabbed the bars, white-knuckled. "Edwin, wait —"

And he did. He waited, his back to Charles, his posture so, so perfect. Still as a statue.

Charles swallowed. "Can..."

Edwin turned his head, just slightly.

Charles' courage abandoned him. He huffed, shaking his head. "Nah. Nothing."

Of course, if there's one thing Charles knew about Edwin by now, it was that he couldn't resist a mystery. He turned to face Charles, eyes bright and curious. "Is there something else you require?"

Charles forced a smile. "You've already given me two gifts, mate. Bit greedy to ask for another one, yeah?"

"Perhaps." Edwin paused, and took a cautious step closer. "But, between ourselves... I can see little harm in the asking."

Charles' grin bloomed into something more sincere, something real. "No standing on ceremony, eh?"

Edwin's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I hardly see the point. I think perhaps you and I might dispense with formalities."

"Right."

Well then. Why not? Last night on Earth, and all that.

Charles ducked his head, laughing softly at himself. "Well. I was gonna be a bit cheeky, actually. Ask you to gimme a kiss for luck. But I reckon that's a bit — mmf!"

Quick, quicker than Charles could've imagined, Edwin was right there; reaching through the bars, taking Charles' face in his hands, and pulling him into a bruising kiss.They were lucky neither of them broke their noses against the iron strips.

Charles startled, gasped, so blindsided he didn't even know what to do with his hands — so he ended up just sort of clinging onto the bars. But soon enough his eyes fluttered closed, his breath rushed out of him and he melted. He kept his grip on the bars, though, holding on tight just to keep his knees from buckling. Edwin's lips were soft, and hotter than fire. His kiss was clumsy and overeager and not even slightly what Charles would've expected from someone so elegant, so refined. But he tasted of honey and home and Charles could've got lost in him, happily. Charles felt like he'd been shoved against the wall and plundered, in the best possible way. He felt like Edwin was everywhere, filling his senses. Hard not to feel wrapped up in him, with the way Edwin had his hands cupped round Charles' face, covetous and claiming. Like Charles belonged to him.

Fuck, maybe he did. Maybe he always had.

Edwin broke the kiss, but he didn't let Charles go. Just pulled back a little, still framing Charles' face with his fingers. His eyes were dark, hooded, his pretty eyelashes fluttering as he stroked Charles' cheek with his thumb. Face flushed, breathing hot and fast, gazing at Charles like he could devour him with his eyes. Charles shivered under the possessive weight of his gaze. He felt seen, admired, treasured. He felt owned.

He wanted more. More, more, until he suffocated under it.

Edwin took a shuddering inhale. "Come back to me," he said. And just because his voice was high and wavering with feeling didn't make it any less commanding. It wasn't a request; it was an order.

Charles nodded, in a daze. "I will," he promised.

He was as surprised as anyone to find he actually meant it.

Edwin nodded, and pulled him in close once more. Quick as you like, for just one more kiss — this one dry and fleeting, almost chaste. Bit of a departure from the one before, but somehow all the more devastating. Charles could feel Edwin's palms against his jaw, pressing so tight they ought to bruise. He hoped they would. A sword and a string weren't enough; he wanted everything Edwin could give him. Every tangible reminder that this was real, wasn't just a mad dream.

When that kiss broke, so did Edwin's hold. When he stepped away, he went all the way. And with one last lingering, longing look, he was gone, fading into the night. A mirage. A ghost.

And like a broken amphora, Charles remained right where Edwin had left him. Off-kilter, rooted to the spot. His outer shell shattered; his insides pooling at his feet for all to see.

~

It would be a sombre morning, just as the others had been. A familiar and predictable tragedy; as it always was, and always shall be.

At dawn's early light, just as they always had, seven young men and seven young women would be led — marched, bullied, carried — to the mouth of the labyrinth. There, the trembling gathering would be ushered into the embrace of the earth and stone. Pushed by the merciless hands of a royal guard, who'd long learned to look past the blood upon them.

But on this occasion, quite without the guards' knowledge, one youth would hang back from the crowd. From his cloak he would draw a small token, round and bright like a golden apple. A ball of fine yarn — spun in strong, beautiful fibres by strong, beautiful hands. He would find the end of the thread and fasten it, tightly, to an old iron ring within the threshold.

Then, with the clew unspooling from his fingers, painting a trail behind him like a steady drip of molten gold, he would walk into the jaws of death. Not with fear, not even with resignation, but with purpose. He was no hapless sacrifice, no tragic victim. He was a youth who'd grown accustomed to treading lightly through the dark, lest the monster in his house leap from the shadows. A youth with steel in his hand, and his own monster in his belly; a monstrous rage, and monstrous desire. A hunger to rival that of the minotaur’s.

A youth with a promise to keep in the dark; and a path waiting to lead him back to the light.

~~

A ball of thread is known as a clew or, in an alternative spelling, a clue. To this day, we talk about following the ‘clues’ to discover something, and it’s all thanks to the story of Theseus and Ariadne’s thread. — things I didn’t even know when I came up with this idea but make me insane… everything is connected… detective boys forever… Thanks for reading guys! You know I adore your comments 💛 and don't forget to give Robin's amazing gifs some love as well! Dunno if I'll get anything posted tomorrow, but if I do it'll either be something much shorter or maybe some sketches. I will defo see you for another fic on day 4, though! Any encouragement very much welcomed, it's been a rough couple of weeks💛 Painland Week Prompt List

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Why did the land of Pyroxene change to shaftlands and now to shift lands

Thank you MysteryShopTLs for their own insightful post on this topic; I referenced it while writing my own thoughts down.

Originally, the country is written as 輝石の国 or “kiseki no kuni”. The characters specifically used for “kiseki” more closely translate to “pyroxene”, which is a silicate mineral that is known for its familiar crystal formations:

Prior to the official English localization of TWST, many fan translations used “Pyroxene” as the name for the aforementioned location because of how its name is written in Japanese. And thinking about it, it seems to make sense. Vil, a sparkling celebrity, comes from Pyroxene, and he himself is twisted from a character from Snow White, a film which depicts a mining cavern with many jewels. I believe Cater, another Pyroxene resident, describes its people as generally glitzy, so this also fits the “jewel” or “crystal” image that the word pyroxene invokes. (Indeed, many characters from this land tend to be regal or “shiny” in some way, be it Vil, Cater, Vargas, Trein; Jack is the only one that isn’t immediately obvious). To be clear, “Pyroxene” was NEVER an official English name, even if it may have been somewhat true of the Japanese.

Both EN and JP (some things in JP, like the world map, are written entirely in English) games then revealed that “Pyroxene” would be localized as “Shaftlands”. (If I recall correctly, JP first showed the localization name in book 6 when Yuu and co. are consulting a world map.) This threw a lot of fans off because “Shaftlands” sounds notably less glamorous than “Pyroxene”.

The name still manages to maintain the mining reference though—mining shafts (rock shafts, ventilation shafts, and service shafts) are utilized to make mining more efficient and safe. “Shafting” may also refer to the strategy of excavating a vertical tunnel from the top-down, which is true of what the Seven Dwarves seem to do in the movie. Either way, the ties to mining are very clear and this may have been where the localized name placed its priorities rather than finding a name that befits the “glamour” of the people that come from it.

Now, Shift Lands… 😅 I’ll be completely honest, I have NO IDEA where this one came from since it seems like both servers already set “Shaftlands” to be the definitive name for that country as much as fans seem to dislike it jevajVahwbbwfwhD. I don’t see a connection between mining and “shifting” unless I guess if you want to count how mining can include “shifting” around/going deeper to find valuables. Even then, this is vague at best.

Many fan translators and Japanese speakers (in my own life) I consulted about this suggested it must be a typo on TWST JP’s part so that’s also what I’m choosing to believe 😂 A little odd that it hasn’t been corrected yet if it is actually a typo though… We’ve gotten the second update to Tapis Rouge by now and there’s been no attempt to “fix” Shift Lands so OTL maybe it is the intended spelling all along?? I feel so conflicted about this…

[madness-combat-confessions]

Homeboy let me tell you on this one, I didn't know there's a madcom specific confession blog out here its quite surprising which. oh brother (gender neutral). you would loooovvveee this particular gossip that had been navigating its way to the dark tunnels of my mind back and forth like a wandering ghost about to get fucking tazed by someone who's reeling in power trip in the distant northern region of britain because buddy, do you know that feeling of self discovery plundered about with self resignation? I've been WAITING to confess this my whole life, I'm like a sinner in one of those confession box and you in your awesome fit is listening to a year long obsession crumpled into few paragraphs with no way of knowing who I am or where to exorcise me. ehhehehehe. AHAHAHAHHAHA.

I FUCKING HATE PHOBOS. IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM—

OBSESSION SO FIXED IT IS A BLESSING IN FORM OF FAILED LOBOTOMY. HE'S BEEN ON MY LIFESPAN UNBEARABLY WELCOMING LIKE THE GRIP OF AN BOXER,

I HATE. HIM.

HIS EXISTENCE IS NOTHING SHORT BUT AN MIRACLE TO MY BLEAK EXISTENCE, OF WHOM HAD FILLED MY TORMENTED COMPLEX WITH A LITTLE BIT OF JOY THAT IT. HURT. IT'S A SENSATION OF RETURNED LOSS WHENEVER HE MADE HIMSELF AT HOME WITHIN MY TORMENT NEXUS AND IT SPEAKS OF AN UNSPOKEN RESIGNATION TO A DEATHLY WORSHIP, A FIXATION SO BOUND SO BLINDING ITS LIFE RUINING YET SO FUCKING REWARDING. MY MUTUALS, MY DEAREST BELOVED MUTUALS WHO HAD KNOWN ME FROM MY MADCOM PHASE (if y'all see this and recognize me somehow, hey man), SEES ME AS— you know what they see? THEY SEES ME AS T.H.E PHOBOS ENJOYER. THEY CAN S E E ME SCRAPING HELL TO BACK FOR A REMINDER OF HIS IMAGE ON THEIR WINDOWS AS IF I WAS THEIR NEIGHBOR GOING MAD AND DIGGING A HOLE OVER IT BECAUSE I HATE HIM SO MUCH

HOWEVER... I LOVE HIM AS A CHARACTER TOO BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH HE HAD OFFERED ME TO GROW AS A PERSON AND THAT UTTERLY WRECKED ME.

THIS VISAGE OF A BARREN EMPIRE, HE HAS BROUGHT ME TO TEARS AS MUCH AS HE HAD MADE ME BARKED. HE HELPED ME UNLIKE ANY OTHER IN MY FUCKING LIFE AND ISN'T THAT JUST DISSAPOINTING YET BEAUTIFUL? ITS HIM. HIM THAT MADE ME REALIZE MY HUMANITY.

He's a reminder of what I could've be if I don't step up to care for my mental health, and as hot as the idea of me being a CEO there's no fucking way I'll fucking bootlick the horrors beyond my comprehension especially when I have the corporate power not to. I wanna fight those thangs, I want a war not power. Its because of this very reason that he's my existential horror that I don't mind worshiping. A welcoming hand to my new world as a human being instead of a piece of nothing, and I don't know if I should be thankful or be angry that it was him instead of tha hottie sweetie Sanford. But. Its undeniable of what he had done to me. There's a piece of me in that wretched soul, I can't help but to care but for the HATE I have for him this care has been translated in the same manner of how people treated Spamton G Spamton. Violence all the way, a beautiful blend of loving violence. I'll worship him from hell to back if it meant that I could beat the ever loving FUCK outta this mf, I want his blood in my kidneys and for it break down the animalistic copper from my taste buds into nutrients so that my arteries can intimately understand how much I have come to HATE him since he decided to break into my psyche all those years ago. He made me understand myself, I find that beautiful.

Its been one year since the obsession wore off you know? I don't gone mad no more baby, the sin of gluttony and wrath no longer traced the ceiling of my mind because all is there is ORDER. A calm acknowledgement of what he had done to me as a person. But no laws can tame the most shitheads of them all, you won't hear me saying this if it had won the internal war back here in my frontal cortex.

I love him, your honor. And because of that I desire so greatly for the act of violence both to him and in his name as a honor to myself, whole and bare, which eventually circles back to him again.

The complexity of my opinion on him were a beautiful tapestry of my own personal growth, a careful blend of colorful care. I no longer feel indifferent towards myself and its all thanks to him. He's my most beloved blorbo, he saved me from a life of neverending agony. I pray every day that I could get a job just so that one day, ONE. DAY. our lord Krinkles turned him into a marketable plushie. Just so that a visage of him can complete the shrine I'm about to build for him as I whisper promises of violence for him and to him.

Yeah... He's my blorbo ♥

I'm gonna start getting therapy appointments for you guys../j