#excavator master

[invertedspoon]

i just think it would be both equally exciting and stressful to be a geologist/archeologist in the ATLA universe. or any kind of nerdy science job involving the 4 main elements.

[clonerightsagenda]

questbedhead

like to think shipping was Greed's job (because he's the only one who really get's 'wanting' a human as something other than disposable/consumable) and he got so into it he decided to fuck off and just hang with the humans. After three different versions of Greed Father stops letting him handle match making and that's why we don't see it in canon

The idea of any iteration of Greed being in charge of hooking people up has transfixed me with horror, but mentally rifling through all of Father's kids I can't deny that any other one would probably be worse.

Actually to be fair Lust did manage to land multiple dates. However it doesn't seem like she had to try very hard. Maybe Lust was initially deployed to State Alchemist Girls Night as a wingwoman but every time someone asked "what should I do about this guy" she said "kill him" and so it didn't work out.

[blueiscoool]

Medieval Game Pieces Emerge From the Ruins of a German Castle

A small cache of medieval game pieces has been discovered in the ruins of a recently discovered castle in southern Germany. The finds provide a window into leisure time, possibly among actual knights, dating back nearly a millennium, approximately the time that chess arrived in Europe as an import from Asia.

The find includes a six-sided die, assorted game pieces including four in the shape of flowers, and a very well-preserved 1½-inch-high chess piece, all carved from antlers.

“In the Middle Ages, chess was one of the seven skills that a good knight should master,” said Jonathan Scheschkewitz, of the State Office for the Preservation of Monuments Baden-Württemberg. “It is therefore not surprising that known finds mostly come from castles.”

There is evidence that these are not just display objects, but pieces that were actually used. “Under the microscope,” explained Flavia Venditti of the University of Tübingen, “a typical sheen from holding and moving the pieces can be seen.”

An international team of experts from the University of Tübingen, the State Office for the Preservation of Monuments Baden-Württemberg and the German Archaeological Institute is now examining this evidence of early gaming culture.

“The discovery of an entire games collection [from] the 11th/12th century came as a complete surprise to us,” said Lukas Werther, of the German Archaeological Institute, “and the horse-shaped knight piece is a real highlight.”

The pieces came to light during excavations by the DFG Collaborative Research Centre 1070 Resource Cultures and the State Office for the Preservation of Monuments Baden-Württemberg in a previously unknown castle in the Reutlingen district of southern Germany’s Baden-Württemberg region.

“They were lying under the debris of a wall where they were lost or hidden in the Middle Ages,” said Michael Kienzle of the University of Tübingen. They are in such good condition, he added, precisely because they had been covered under those materials.

They will go on display this month in two exhibitions: “Excavated! Knights and Castles in the Echaz Valley” at the Schlössle Pfullingen (June 15–August 30) and “The Hidden Länd: We in the First Millennium” at the Archaologisches Landsmuseum Baden-Württemberg (September 13, 2024–January 26, 2025).

[the-black-manor]

Within Temptation

Author: The-Black-Manor

Demon x Trans Male Priest (Pre-transition)

Warnings: Rape, unprotected sex, stolen virginity

Kinks: Demon, priest, corruption, blasphemy, oral, excessive cum, oversized cock, monster cock, bondage, belly bulge, rough sex, age difference, size difference

Terms used: Cunt, cock, balls, cervix, chest, nipples, binder, cockhead, crotch, walls, entrance

Words: 4,002

Note: If you find any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO USE MY WRITING FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN READING. DO NOT PRINT AND BIND MY WORKS, DO NOT REPOST THEM, DO NOT COPY THEM, DO NOT FEED THEM INTO AI, DO NOT SELL THEM, DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

The young priest didn’t arrive at the old stone church until well after dark. He was exhausted from his long journey, but there was nowhere nearby to rest, and he certainly wasn’t going to rest in the church until he was certain there were no malevolent entities present. He stepped out of the cab and stretched before grabbing his luggage and kit and making his way through the crumbling, overgrown courtyard. The front door was unlocked, and he was silently grateful to the family that lived here that they’d remembered to keep it open for him before they fled.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The foyer was dark and foreboding. Previous owners had begun renovating the church into a home years ago, but progress had been halted when strange activity began after unsealing a walled-off room in the cellar. Scaffolding, canvas, tarp, rope, and all sorts of construction equipment had been left behind when the family and crew abandoned the location. There was a large industrial light nearby, and the priest switched it on. The room was no less unsettling bathed in white light. 

As he moved through the home in search of the dining room, dust that had since settled was kicked up once more and made the air hazy. The dining room would work well enough as a sort of “home base” while he investigated the claims of demonic activity. He was no exorcist, just a young priest sent to validate the claims. If he found evidence of activity, he would send for an exorcist. For now, though, all he had was himself, his bible, his crucifix, and his faith.

After he got himself settled, he descended to the cellar, to the newly-excavated room the family claims is a “door to hell”. He scoffed and shook his head. Not likely. A gas leak, perhaps, which is why he had a mask and detector with him. But the detector stayed silent, and when he felt comfortable enough to take his mask off, the air was clean, if a bit stale. He worked his way through the house slowly, paying great attention to each room, making mental notes if anything seemed “off”. 

The only thing he found unusual was that nothing seemed unusual. He shook his head. This was a waste of time. Still, he had a job to do, and he was going to see it through to the end. He kept going. The church was huge, more a castle than anything, and he eventually found his way upstairs to the bedrooms. The doors were all closed, except for one at the very end of the hall.

If there was ever a place to start up here, he supposed that was it. The dusty old runner beneath his feet muffled his footsteps, and he peered into the room as he approached. It was dark inside, but he could make out the silhouette of a bed with a canopy. He hesitated for only the briefest moment before stepping over the threshold and into the master bedroom. The windows either side of the bed were open just a crack, letting in a crisp, fresh night breeze that sent the linen curtains fluttering and rays of silver moonlight that provided just enough light to see by.

This room was different from the rest. There was no dust on the plush red duvet, no cracks in the stone walls or gunk on the windows. No tattered rugs or moth-eaten curtains. Whereas the rest of the church was obviously abandoned, this room looked well cared for. Lived in.

The door closed behind him and the lock fastened with a “click”. He whirled around, and his blood ran cold as his tired gaze met the glowing purple eyes of an undulating shadow. He took a step back. At points, the figure looked almost human, and then its silhouette dissolved and melded with the shadows around it, moving like ink in water.  It was both tangible and intangible, solid and smoke, man and monster.

Its eyes flickered like flame, and it glared at him, and then he thought he saw, for only the briefest moment, the hint of a sharp-toothed smile. 

“Hello, priest,” the entity greeted him. 

Its voice was deep and seemed to burrow into his chest and reverberate around in his rib cage. The priest gripped the crucifix around his neck and lifted it, wielding it like a shield against the darkness. The entity laughed, low and menacing. And then it was gone. Or so the priest thought. He gasped and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt arms snake around him from behind. The demon pulled him close, pressing its chest against his back, and ran its shadowy clawed hands all over the priest’s chest and stomach. 

“Release me!” the priest insisted, writhing in its vice-like grip. 

“Cute,” it cooed, its breath hot on the shell of his ear. “You think you have authority here…”

“In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to- mmph!”

The demon forced two thick fingers into his mouth, silencing him.

“Hush now,” it breathed as its free hand slid down his stomach to his crotch. 

It grabbed him hard and pulled him back into its bulge. He could feel it hardening against his ass. 

It let out a sound then that was somewhere between a purr and a growl. “What’s this?” it asked as it felt between his legs. “No cock? Does the church know about this?” it chuckled. “No, I think not. They wouldn’t let you be a priest if they did.” 

He held his crucifix so tight that the edges of the cross dug into the soft flesh of his palm. He repeated all the prayers he knew in his head, over and over. He wasn’t afraid, but he couldn’t speak with the fiend’s fingers pressing down on his tongue, so he couldn’t fend it off. All he could do was pray. Its claws dug into the flesh of his inner thigh, and then he was in the air. He landed hard on the bed, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. He propped himself up on his elbows, ready to run, and saw the demon approaching slowly, a predator stalking its prey. This was the most tangible it had been. It looked like a man, around six feet tall, with a slim body and long hair that flowed like smoke. He could make out no facial features except for those gleaming eyes, eyes that burned into his very soul and held him in place, like a deer in the headlights. 

The demon leaned forward to match his level, its face only millimeters from his. It breathed in deep, taking in his scent, and then a long, pointed tongue snaked out from behind sharp, wet teeth to lick a line up his cheek.

“Delicious,” it purred. 

It rested its hand on his chest, over his racing heart, and shoved him onto his back. Claws dug into his flesh as it tore at his vestments and binder and peeled them away. He snapped out of his fear-frozen state, and brought a leg up to try and kick the monster away. Something wrapped around his ankle, then his thigh, then his other leg, his wrists, his biceps. Inky tentacles held him down and spread him open, leaving him bare before the evil he faced. 

“What do you want with me?” he growled, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

“I want your body,” it responded simply, then ran its tongue over its lips. “And it is a beautiful body… Seems a shame to have such stunning assets and not put them to any use.”

He had to get out of here.. He sneered at the demon and began a prayer, voice rising in an attempt to drown out its booming laugh. It didn’t care for his prayers, his faith, his god. It crawled on top of him, and he expected its body to be as hot as the fiery pits that spat it out, but it was icy cold and sent a chill down his spine. His prayer was cut short as the creature forced that long tongue into his mouth and entangled it with his own. He writhed beneath it, trying to free himself from the tentacles’ grasp and the slimy intrusion. One of its teeth nicked his lip, and he tasted blood. The demon must have tasted it too, because another purr-growl rumbled through its chest.

It pulled its tongue from his mouth and licked up the side of his neck while the priest spat, trying to rid himself of its taste. And then its lips replaced its tongue, peppering kisses along his jaw, down his neck, across his collarbone. Its hands touched and grabbed and massaged every inch of him that it could reach, paying special attention to his chest, where it groped the soft mounds and pinched his nipples, rolling them between clawed fingers. Despite his best efforts, the demon’s ministrations were affecting him, and he keened, back arching, when the demon replaced its fingers with soft lips and sucked a sensitive bud into its mouth.

He choked back a moan as fire ignited in his belly. He could feel some sort of wetness leaking from his cunt and pooling on the bed beneath him, but he couldn’t close his legs or reach down to feel. Just then, he felt something hard knock against his cock, and he cried out as electricity shot up his spine. He thought it must have been the demon’s knee, but when he managed to lift his head to look down, the demon was straddling him, its knees on either side of his hips.

“No…” he whimpered, and his head fell back against the mattress. 

When it said it wanted his body, he assumed it meant possession, not…

“Get off of me!” he shouted, struggling with renewed vigor.

The demon didn’t reply, but it released his nipple with a “pop”, and traveled down his belly, kissing and licking every inch of the soft flesh there and on his hips as he made his way lower. The priest squirmed, trying to kick away the tentacles so that he could close his legs, but they only pulled them wider apart. Finally, the demon buried its face in his cunt and inhaled deeply. It flicked his cock with its wicked tongue, and then pressed the strong muscle flat against it. It massaged him expertly, and as his back arched and his hips bucked involuntarily, another tentacle wrapped itself around his midsection to hold him down.

“S-stop…” he panted. 

“Keep praying to your absent father,” the demon mocked. “I’m sure he’ll come to your rescue.”

His cock throbbed, his cunt clenched, his body ached for more.

“Don’t… ahh-”

The tip of its tongue prodded at his entrance, gauging resistance.

“A virgin?” it purred. “I couldn’t have asked for the church to send me a better gift.”

Fighting back was useless, so the priest closed his eyes tight and started up another prayer.

“That’s it,” the demon cooed. “What a good boy. So obedient.”

He cursed the creature silently and continued his prayer while it pushed the tip of its tongue just past his entrance. He groaned and balled his hands into fists. Its tongue was far bigger than a human’s, and he’d never had anything inside of him before. The stretch burned, but there was pleasure there as well, and he hated his body for reacting the way it was. 

It thrust its tongue in and out, in and out, and then buried it deeper. He cried out at the sharp pain, and then stumbled over his prayer as it hit something inside of him - a sensitive spot that sent pleasure shooting up his spine. Its tongue delved deeper, opening his cunt, curling and uncurling, thrusting, massaging, and pressing again and again and again against that spot. 

“Sto-op…” he tried to beg, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Its tongue suddenly retreated until only the tip was inside, and it used the meatiest part to press hard against his cock. 

“Ah!” he cried out in surprise as another shock of pleasure flooded his senses. 

The demon chuckled low, pleased with the reactions it was pulling out of this man of god. Its hands traveled up his sides and it took a breast in each one, kneading them in its large palms and rolling his nipples between its fingers. 

“Fuck-” he swore.

Its tongue plunged deep inside of him once more, all the way, until he could feel its lips and nose against his crotch. 

“Such a dirty mouth for someone so pure,” it mocked. “And you pray to your god with that tongue?”

“Shut up,” he tried to command, but it only laughed again.

“Have you given up on your prayers, little priest? I quite liked hearing them.”

Mocking. Always mocking. It should hate his prayers, not like them. It was only driving home the fact that the priest had no power over it, no weapon against it.

“Sing for me, priest.”

He clenched his jaw.

“I said, sing.”

It dug its claws into the sensitive flesh of his breasts, and he hissed in pain. He could feel warm blood pooling beneath its talons and running in rivulets down his sides.

“Our f-father, who… who art i-in…”

“Good boy,” it praised him, purring happily.

It ran its cold hands up and down his sides, and then traced soft spirals into his hips before it removed its tongue entirely. The priest was given only a moment to breathe before it was climbing over him once more. It pressed its lips to his neck, peppering him in soft kisses while one of its hands gave his cock the same treatment it had given his nipples. His body jerked, and a moan escaped his lips. The demon nipped at his collarbone, then soothed the bite with licks. It dipped a finger inside of his cunt just as it latched onto his neck, sucking a deep bruise into his pale flesh. A second finger joined the first, and then a third, stretching him wider than its tongue had. 

It’s preparing me, he thought. It’s stretching me open so it can fuck me.

And so it was. It added a final finger, opening and closing them with a scissor-like motion inside of him. And then it curled them harshly upward, pressing hard against that sensitive spot. He felt a spurt of something wet gush from his cunt around the demon’s fingers, earning a pleased rumble from its chest. It curled them again, and again, faster, harder, and the priest’s eyes rolled back in his head as he was overcome with pleasure. 

There was a tightening in his lower belly, and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking, his walls from clenching, his back from arching. The coil tightened quickly, and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of these sensations, to no avail.

“No, please… Don’t!” he begged. “I can’t!” 

He was right on the very edge. One more second, and he’d-

The demon stopped all at once, removing its fingers and its lips, and pushed away from him to stand at the foot of the bed. The priest lay there, quivering and clenching around nothing, his cunt leaking and his chest heaving. 

“Silly boy,” the demon chuckled. “You think I’ll let you cum around anything other than my cock?”

It slapped his cunt hard, and the priest cried out in pain. It grabbed his hips and pulled them off the edge of the bed, then settled itself between his legs. He finally got a good look at what he was dealing with. Its cock was as black as the shadows that made up its body, massive - at least the size of his forearm, with a tapered, pointed head and thick, ridged shaft, pronounced veins, and precum leaking from the tip like a faucet. Below them swung enormous balls, bigger than any he’d seen even on the horses in the stable or the bulls in the pasture.

“Please…” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Please?” the demon asked. “Please what?”

It lined up and began to prod at his entrance. 

“Please don’t do this…”

It smiled that sharp-toothed smile.

“Ah, and here I thought you were begging me to fuck you.”

He forced the head in all at once, and the priest cried out in pain.

“It won’t fit!” he screamed, but the demon only laughed wickedly.

“I’ll make it fit,” it promised, and forced another inch inside.

The pain was blinding, and he fisted handfuls of the bedding either side of him to ground himself against it. 

“You’re so wet, I can slide right inside,” it teased. 

Another inch, a wider stretch. The priest saw stars every time he opened his eyes.

“Your body wants me,” it told him. “Otherwise your pelvis wouldn’t be opening so readily my cock.”

He shook his head feverishly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Yes,” it chuckled. “Your pelvis is opening up to allow me easier access, and your wet cunt slicked itself up to make pushing in easier. You want this. You want me.”

It snapped its hips forward, burying itself to the hilt in one swift motion. The priest screamed as it slammed against his cervix, but his voice seemed so far away, muffled by the ringing in his ears. It rutted into him, making itself comfortable inside of his body, the pointed tip of its cockhead nestling itself in the little dimple at the opening of his cervix. The tendril around one of his wrist loosened, and then slipped away, but before he could even think to try and throw a punch, the demon had his wrist in its hand. He was silently grateful for the relief on his shoulder as it guided his hand down, where it pressed his palm against his lower abdomen. There was a bulge there, and it moved beneath his hand as the demon rut into him. 

His cock… it’s so big it’s making my stomach bulge…

He clenched involuntarily at the thought. 

“You like that?” it purred. “I thought you might.”

It rested its hand over his, preventing him from pulling away.

“Why are you doing this?” the priest asked quietly.

“Why does anyone do anything?” the demon asked in reply. “Because I want to. Hush now,” it growled. “Enjoy it.”

But how could he enjoy anything when he was being violated so thoroughly? His body would never be the same after this. He would never be the same.

It gripped his hips tightly, but the priest didn’t move his hand from the bulge. Instead, he pressed down on it, though he wasn’t sure why. The demon hissed and its hips bucked forward harshly, pushing the priest upward on the bed. It pulled him back down and dug its claws into his thighs.

“If you make yourself tighter, you’re only going to make me want to fuck you harder. Unless that’s what you want?” it smirked.

“No!”

He didn’t know why he pressed down. He didn’t mean to, his hand did it on its own… The demon slid almost all the way out of him, and then pushed back in smoothly. The priest let out a long, low moan. The burning stretch had since given way to a pleasant feeling of fullness, and feeling that bulge in his stomach each time the creature bottomed out was doing something to him, making him feel things he wished he wasn’t feeling. 

It pulled out again, then slid in, then out, then in, setting a slow, steady pace, fucking him with its entire length.

“Sto-o-op,” he moaned, the word broken each time its cockhead hit his cervix.

“I don’t think you really want me to,” it chuckled. “I think you want me to make you cum.”

“No…” he whined, even as embers ignited in his belly. “Please, don’t…”

It laughed, low and menacing as it picked up the pace, fucking him harder, faster. It pulled him back against it with each thrust, burying itself as deep as possible, bruising his virgin cervix. Wet squelching and skin slapping against skin filled the air like a song, and the priest’s little whines and moans harmonized beautifully. The embers quickly ignited into a blaze, and the spring began to tighten once more. The demon’s hands slid from his hips. One slipped between his legs to pinch and massage his hot, hard cock, while the other rested once more over the priest’s own.

He didn’t see the demon’s wicked smile, so tightly his eyes were closed, but he felt its thrusts become harsher, faster, until it was fucking him like an animal, growling and panting, warm drool dripping off of its lolling tongue and onto his belly. It pressed down hard on the bulge. The priest released a high-pitched whine at the added pressure, and the demon growled low. 

“So fucking tight…” it breathed. “There’s nothing better than an innocent little virgin stretched around my fat cock.”

“Huh- uh….”

He couldn’t seem to form words anymore. His senses had narrowed until all his world consisted of was the monster violating his body and the pleasure radiating from his core.

“S..st-o-o-”

“Hmm? What’s that?” the demon purred. “Use your words.”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh.” His voice broke with each thrust.

“No, I didn’t think so,” it grinned and slammed into him like a jackhammer.

The priest tried to arch his back, but the demon’s hand held him down, and that somehow only made the pleasure more intense. 

“No… no, no, no,” he cried with each thrust as he rocketed toward the edge. “No, please!”

He came hard. His entire body tensed and curled in on itself, his cunt clenched and unclenched around the demon’s member, and he threw his head back and cried out. His eyes rolled back, his tongue lolled out, and his breath caught in his chest. The demon plowed deep, pushed itself in as far as possible, and then stilled as a feral growl rumbled in its throat. He could feel its cock throbbing, feel its heavy balls clenching against his ass as it released inside of him. Its seed was hot, and it flooded his cunt like a waterfall. It painted his walls white and leaked out past the demon’s ridged length to run in rivulets down his ass and pool beneath him, mixing with the slick that had gushed out of him earlier.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, a mixture of pain, pleasure, and grief, and it was all he could do to choke back his sobs in between gasping for air. He came down from his high much sooner than the demon did. It seemed like an eternity before the flood of cum finally stopped. It rubbed his belly softly over his uterus, thrust gently another couple of times, and then was gone.

The tendrils unwound themselves from around his body, the shadows retreated back into the far corners of the room, and the priest was left alone, a trembling, cum-soaked mess. His joints were sore from the unpleasant position he’d been trapped in for… how long had it been? He pushed himself off of the bed and unsteadily to his feet. It was only as a sliver of sunlight through the curtains lit upon his pale face that he realized it was dawn. 

Hours. That creature had violated him for hours. He wiped his tears and used the tattered remains of his vestments to clean himself up before descending the stairs back to the dining room. He got dressed and threw his things together as quickly as he could, then all but sprinted for the door. It slammed behind him of its own accord, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. 

All he could do was run and hope that whatever dark entity lived within that old stone church decided not to follow him home.

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks for reading!

[junkienet]

✱ AFTER DAWN CARESSES ？ eagle master noa.

fluff ⌇ cute time with a partner undertone ⸻ ﹙ 𝒜lt ﹒ universe ﹚ established relationships. 𝒻.ᐟreader

LATE AT MIDNIGHT ◞ 09 : 27 o ' clock. ⸻ between entwined legs and arms.

underneath the canopy of bleak branches , the bubbling murkiness of the gelid grime ringlet your perspiring brow. you steep your corporeal weight on your hip—joint , stirring in the fathomless concave of the nest made of caramel—deerskin , shrubbery and withered leaf stalks. noa , master of birds , paladin of the eagle's clan , skates his elephantine thumb across the sun—peel of your cheek. the womb of his gloved palm in carved leather kneads the peach flesh , like seared bread. he whir's , gurgling beneath the thwack of accumulated drool under your tongue, the shore of your eye elongates and squash bellow the pumpkin—cushion of his fingers. you gulp the swell of saliva, cooling the structure of your larynx.

you rasp. " your hand is the same size as my cranium . " the ape crane his mandible , abstracted. his digits clatter on the beak of your head.

" cra—nee—um , hmm. " he scratches his throat, ambivalent.

you nod once , your fingernail galloping along the meadow of ochre fur that drenched the perimeter of his denuded , salmon—skinned ear. " cranium , yes. " you extol the arid tumult at the bottom of your dehydrated mouth. " you could crush it if you wanted to. " you babble in the cadence of a lonely nightingale.

the chimpanzee denies twice , muddling his snout , barbed of your human—kind ideality. he spits a smack of lips in the opposite route , undulating a drapery of your ravelled hair.

" i won't . " his shale timber of voice excavates into a nasal splutter.

you coil your head , distinguishing the crackle of the nest's teeny twigs. " but you could. "

" i won't . "

you broom the juncture of his scruff , blanding the pulsating pitter—patter of the crown of your skull as you perceive a scintilla of his viridian—green orbs , of wheat fields and groves , sumptuous. " i believe you . "

he sprain his upper—spine , the peak of his paw toes stroking the crook contour of his left kneecap . he panted a grunt , an abysmal clamor that hike's aerially , exultant .

" you have long nails . . . you could take my eyes out , " he glabber's with a sequence of drooped blinks. " if echo wanted to. "

you negate three times , slouching your forehead on his leafy , pompous bosom. " i won't. "

his herculean arm cascade parallel to an iron belt through the shoal arch of your waist , impelling you against his thorax.

" i believe you. "

SEXY JUTSU LIKE NARUTO ©JUNKIENET ╱ 2024.

[chattahoochiecoochie]

theres been a lot of sadness in recent days obviously, I've felt so deeply for appalachia, having called it home for so many years. there have been so many bright spots though and I thought it might be nice to highlight some of those.

a local man, and master operator, took his own set of master keys and commandeered several pieces of heavy equipment to begin shifting debris. stating to his wife he intends to work first, and ask for forgiveness later.

private pilots across the region are using personal aircraft to deliver supplies and move people out of unsafe areas.

mountain mule packer ranch have moved into rural areas and are bringing supplies in by mule to hard to reach places

the nolichucky dam held. taking on an estimated 1.3 million gallons of water per second at the height of the storm, the dam survived the storm and remains under emergency monitoring.

the wnc nature center has reported that their animals are safe and accounted for.

more than 700 canadian linemen have been deployed to assist north and south carolina to restore power.

the unites states national guard has deployed over 5500 service members from 11 states to support areas affect by helene.

the north carolina national guard has activated five hundred service members and allowed over 200 vehicles and aircraft to move into the western region to begin relief efforts.

search and rescue teams from around the country are making their way east to assist in rescue and recovery.

neighbors are helping neighbors. a woman has been able to make contact, and while doing so has taken it upon herself to catalogue the names of surviving locals in several areas, easing the efforts of local officials as they try to conduct wellness reports.

in cashiers, north carolina, a group of locals have taken their personal off road vehicles in the mountains to excavate debris and deliver supplies to those in need.

people in the south take care of their own. for generations, these communities have stuck by one another and bonded through good fortune and hardship alike. there is light at the end of this hideously long tunnel.

[scuttlingcrab]

So it's pretty obvious that Raphael would be a massive fan of luxury items. How would he react to Tav being able to make certain luxury items from scratch (such as lotions, massage oils, perfumes, soaps, etc.) and is really freaking good at it.

Maybe he learns this little fact about Tav when he receives a bundle of custom luxury items from one of his warlocks and it has a note which says, "To: Raphael. From: The mouse. A 'thank you' for the food." (assuming Tav filled a plate of food during the group's first encounter with the fiend)

Thank you for this awesome prompt. I took a liberty with this one, wanted to try something that maybe a writer hasn’t done before re: what luxury item Tav would make Raphael. I also referenced a few characters from my other stories. Marin, the composer from A Night at the Symphony and Dolofina, the warlock, from A Warlock is Born. I couldn’t resist! Hope you enjoy! And send on the next prompt if you haven’t already! :)

Summary: Raphael receives an unexpected gift from Tav.

Warnings: Mild violence/torture

––

A Perfect Fit 

(Image via violadesdragons)

The screams were like music to Raphael’s ears.

The torment that resonated from each shriek, every wail that echoed into his House of Hope, if directed well, could create a symphony that would feed Raphael for weeks. A melody almost as magnificent as Marin’s concertos. Raphael mastered what buttons to push, what minute threads to pull, to achieve perfection.

Every human was an instrument in their own right. They had a unique cord, an unsung talent, that Raphael knew how to excavate and mould. He had spent millennia fiddling with mortals, experimenting with different techniques to inflict pain or even less conspicuous means to really persecute his poor unfortunate pets. 

Nevertheless, Raphael despised it all. Torturing these creatures was so below his station, another idle role he had to play to keep up appearances in this never-ending farce to reach his objective, to reclaim the Crown of Karsus. He longed to see the players of his saga, his glorious ascension, leave the dark confines of the wings and enter the proscenium for all the planes to see.

Raphael listlessly looked up towards his current unfinished task, a withered mortal impaled on rusted spikes. No matter how hard Raphael stared at this rat, how tirelessly he worked his mind to calculate new methods to inflict agony, all Raphael could do was muster an apathetic groan in response. 

He was almost relieved to hear footsteps approaching the dungeon, identifying the bouncy gait of one of his warlocks almost immediately. Dolofina. 

Raphael smiled to himself, letting out a shallow breath as the doors slowly creaked open. He snapped his fingers, and another spike appeared, slowly lifting to meet the others.

“I do hope you have some interesting news for me. And think hard on your answer, or else I might swap you out with poor Boris.” 

Raphael turned to greet Dolofina, the whimpers of the tortured human slowly rising as he approached her. She stared back at him without any emotion, unmoved by the threat. He taught her well.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but a woman was insistent you receive this. She wouldn’t leave Korrilla alone until she confirmed we’d deliver it to you.”

Dolofina lifted the basket in her hands with a sigh, offering it to Raphael. 

“Pah! Which insolent creature is it this time? If it’s that damned–” 

“She only referred to herself as the, and I quote, ‘little mouse.’”

Dolofina seemed perplexed at the name, rolling her eyes as she waited for his response. Raphael’s mouth parted, his eyes instantly becoming more animated at the mention of her.

“Could she be crawling to me already?” So fast, and such a pity. He had been looking forward to a tussle.

Raphael gingerly picked up the basket, holding it in his hands and carefully inspecting every inch as if it was an ancient relic. What a simple little offering, merely a straw woven basket. Its contents were hidden under gold wrapping paper and held together delicately by a red bow.

“Don’t worry, we’ve already inspected it for traps.”

Raphael gave Dolofina a flat stare. 

“Do you think the creature would be so daft?”

Dolofina shrugged.

“I am merely a mortal, what would I know?” 

There was a hint of mischief in Dolofina’s eyes as she smiled back at Raphael, so pleased with herself. He growled, pointing towards the threshold of his dungeon. The skin on his human disguise hissed, verging on transformation. 

“You have overstayed your welcome. And might I remind you, I am your master. I can terminate our agreement whenever I see fit, be it from the smallest lapse in your performance. You know what that means for your future.”

“Yes, master.” Dolofina responded through tight lips. She promptly made her leave, but not without slamming the doors behind her. 

“Must every creature under my employment be so thickheaded?” Raphael whispered, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose. 

When Raphael was sure his boiling blood had cooled, he proceeded to focus his attention on the basket, now weighing heavy in his hands. It would’ve been a shame to have accidentally incinerated the gift with his temper, which was nearly uncontrollable in recent months, without even knowing what was inside.

Raphael started with the bow, carefully untying the knot. Once it was removed, he brought it to his nose, slowly taking in its scent. Cloves and roses. Oh how he relished it. Raphael placed the bow in his pocket and removed the wrapping paper. He discovered a small envelope sitting on top of a golden gift box. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through his veins as he opened the letter. 

To: Raphael  From: The Mouse  Thank you for the food. Please accept this gift in exchange for your hospitality. If the measurements are not sufficient, perhaps we can schedule a fitting. You know where to find me.

Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving the letter floating in the air beside him as he continued with the box. His fingers, usually so calm and still, twitched with excitement. 

Raphael gasped, removing a single doublet from the box, its red colour as dark as blood. The silk melted in his hands, the article of clothing sparkling against the roaring flames of the dungeon. Gold and silver markings were intricately embroidered throughout the jacket, infernal designs suiting Raphael’s tastes. The cuffs of the doublet were adorned with devil tails that swished and curled on a constant loop. 

“My, my, the little mouse has been busy indeed.”

And what artistry! It had been ages, no centuries, since his eyes fell on such an alluring piece. Is this what it would feel like once he held the Crown in his hands? 

Raphael snapped his fingers, the doublet now on his person. He sighed, oh it fit him perfectly, as if that creature knew Raphael’s body like the back of her hand. He raised his arms, bowed, did every possible movement that could come to his mind in that instant, and yet could find no imperfections. 

Raphael was a generous devil, perhaps often too generous. He wasn’t opposed to receiving such luxurious gifts on occasion, but it was dangerous to play with his food. He considered for a moment being harsher to his future clients. The little mouse had a long road ahead of her if she was to help Raphael get what he desired. She needed to focus. No more distractions. No more gifts. 

And yet… 

Raphael clapped his hands and a mirror appeared before him. He gave himself a little spin, grinning. It was a suitable doublet. Cursed creature! Perhaps he could make other uses of these tadpoled yet. What was that mortal saying he heard so often? Ah yes, all work, and no play… 

Raphael was pulled from his thoughts at the howls of the tortured mortal, still impaled above him. Raphael’s cheeks burned, he had been sloppy, overlooking that he was not alone.

He angrily snapped his fingers and the mortal combusted. Their screams died with the flames, leaving no signs of their previous existence as the ashes fluttered away. A waste of a soul, Zariel be damned. She’d never even notice it was missing. 

And with that, Raphael stormed out of the dungeon, proudly wearing his new doublet. 

[oldschoolfrp]

The best thing about a cloud castle is the view. The next best thing is the dungeon below, excavated down into the cloud, with soft white puffy walls. (AD&D 2e Dungeon Master’s Guide, TSR, 1989 -- I believe most of the DMG art with knotwork borders is by Jean E Martin) 

[razorblade180]

Zelda:Link, I’m going to go investigate some ruins.

Link:.*grabs sword*

Zelda:Oh, you don’t have to come. They’ve been excavated and dozens of knights and Shikah are already there. So-

Link:*hands her sword*

Zelda:Why are you giving me the Master Sword?

Link:Every time you have it we find our way back to each other so you can give it back to me. Stay safe. I gotta go help build a house. *leaves*

Zelda:….

xxxxx

Purah:Why’d you bring the Master Sword with you?

Zelda:*red* So I can go back home later!

Purah:What, like a house key?

Zelda:Yes!

[thegingerwrites]

De-aged Obi-Wan ficlet, inspired by this gorgeous art of Pada-Wan

Anakin stares. He is utterly and completely awestruck by the sight before him. He must look like a kid again, with wide eyes and his mouth fallen open. Barely controlling a panicked urge to laugh, Anakin thinks that he isn’t the only one. He can’t help it now though. This is too much. 

His hair is long. That’s the first thing Anakin notices about him. His master’s hair is often fairly long, reaching down to touch his shoulders at the back. On long missions, it can get longer, unruly, but he always makes himself cut it before it grows long enough to tie back. 

Now, his hair easily reaches his shoulders on all sides. It frames his face with soft waves that Anakin aches to touch, run his fingers through and push back behind his ears. Is it redder now, somehow? Did his hair grow blonder over time and as white hairs began to gather at the temples? 

Anyway, looking at his master’s hair is much safer than looking at his face—soft and smooth, beardless and entirely unlined. His master’s lips are a gentle petal-pink, a dangerous thought that Anakin forces from his mind the instant it occurs to him. It isn’t safe to think that kind of thing about his master, especially when he looks like this. 

But looking elsewhere isn’t any better. His robes are structured to be broad across the shoulders, trying to make him look bigger there, stronger and more certain. All it does is accentuate just how small his master’s waist is. If Anakin placed his hands there, he bets his fingertips would touch. 

The Sith holocron must have changed Obi-Wan, made him younger. But just how young is anyone’s guess. Anakin thinks, briefly bordering panic once again, that they must be almost the same age now. Obi-Wan is about the same height as he always is, just slimmer, his muscles less developed and his movements willowy. 

They are almost the same age now. The fact does not help Anakin as he continues to stare, continues to look his fill at his young and beautiful master. 

“We have to go back,” Anakin says, still looking at Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows, creating lines on his forehead that will one day become permanent. “We can’t—the entrance is blocked. Even if we could get past it, the whole cave system is likely unstable.”

But they need that holocron. They need to get Obi-Wan back to himself again. There is no way his master can be allowed to go on looking like that. Stars, all he’s doing is standing there, worrying his bottom lip—perhaps a normal tick for him, but one that is usually hidden by his beard—and the way it makes his perfect, soft pink lips go shiny with spit is indecent. Everything about him is obscene. 

Anakin takes a moment and decides on his orders. “Snips, see if you can scan the cave system. Rex, gather the men and get ready to excavate the entrance.”

“Anakin, there’s no need. I’m fine and we have to think of our mission here. I’ll comm the Council and have them start working on a solution. By the time we return to Coruscant, I’ll be myself again.” He frowns and thinks for a moment. “Though I suppose I feel rather like myself right now.”

Obi-Wan looks like he’s contemplating the benefits of remaining eighteen or nineteen for an extended period of time and Anakin has to put a stop to that line of thought right now. 

“You’ll be a liability,” Anakin insists. “Your body isn’t the same as your older self. You won’t be as good in a fight.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and fixes him with a look that Anakin can only describe as petulant. Kriff, was his master a brat at this age? Anakin wants to bite his young master’s pretty bottom lip. “It will take some getting used to, I grant you, but I’m hardly defenseless.”

No, not defenseless, but Anakin is prepared to fight the entire galaxy to keep anyone else from seeing his master like this. It’s like he doesn���t know what he looks like, the thoughts people are going to have about him, the thoughts Anakin is currently struggling with. 

But he does have a point. They were never meant to get so derailed by the ruins of the Sith temple. Their mission awaits.

“Fine,” Anakin says. Then he shrugs off his cloak and holds it out to Obi-Wan. “At least wear this.”

Maybe if Anakin obscures his master’s irresistible little waist and gets him to pull the hood up, he won’t have to fend off any unwanted eyes. Unwanted by Anakin, that is. Obi-Wan is Anakin’s master. No one gets to look at him or think about him the way Anakin is currently doing. 

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but accepts the cloak and oh, no, Anakin has made a terrible mistake. The cloak is too big and it swallows Obi-Wan’s smaller frame. The sleeves are too long and there is too much fabric gathered up around his shoulders. His face peers out above the mass of brown fabric and he looks so adorable that Anakin can hardly stand it. 

“I’m going to go check on Ahsoka,” Anakin declares. There is no way they are leaving here without that karking holocron. “And you’re coming with me.”

[chaotic-archaeologist]

I have about 3 years left until I have a masters degree, but I want to work in CRM/my country’s equivalent to we-wanna-build-a-road-here-you-better-save-the-graves for a few years maybe before i possibly go for a phd. As a neurodivergent person who struggles with routines and energy levels I think a lot about how i would manage such a massive full time job. Currently I work part time at a museum that hosts small archaeological digs for kids and adults, and i have been on excavation courses before, so I know how it partially feels like.

My question is; how do archaeologists who work in the field make time and energy for going to the gym, hanging out with friends and cooking etc outside of work? It can be so intense when you work with stuff you love. Any thoughts?

- @academiaautumn

I think the best advice I can give you is that you need to get in contact with someone working this job in your country who can give you a sense of how things work, because every country is going to be a little bit different. If you're in college/university, your professors probably have connections with colleagues or former students that they can put you in contact with.

I haven't done CRM, but I've been in similar situations and heard from friends who have, and I'll be real with you: a lot of the things you're asking about? You just do not do them. But keep in mind this is for US CRM and your mileage (or kilometerage) may vary.

These jobs are location specific, so you have to travel to wherever the excavation is. Usually for a set duration, with the longest being maybe a couple of months. This time frame and travel limits a lot of what you can do. The company employing you will put you up in a motel, but it probably won't have a kitchen. Because of the travel, most of the people you know are probably on the dig with you.

Time and energy... it depends. Check out the notes on this post for different archaeologists talking about what they do in a day. CRM is hard work, which can also translate to less energy for socialization/extracurricular activities than less physical jobs.

I'm a big believer that archaeology is for everyone, but unfortunately that does not mean that all areas of archaeology are accessible across the board. Before committing to this plan, you need to get a very clear understanding of what this work entails and how that interacts with your own needs. If you don't think those are compatible, 3 years out is plenty of time to start coming up with alternatives for after your master's (which I'm sure exist).

I did not go into CRM because of my own brain and body issues. I'm not saying that you can't or shouldn't, I'm saying that CRM is a difficult environment and you should do everything you can to set yourself up for success.

If anyone who does have actual CRM experience wants to add their perspective, that would be great.

-Reid

[exoexid]

huh. just realized this was my last master's class ever

not our teacher saying he was late to this online class because "he was with his tea hehe :)" 😭

[blueiscoool]

The Marble Head of Apollo Unearthed in Greece

The excavation, carried out by a group of students of the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki in the archaeological site of Philippi Kavala, brought to light important findings. Among other things, they discovered a rare head of Apollo dating back to the 2nd or early 3rd century AD.

The statue dates back to the 2nd or early 3rd century AD and it probably adorned an ancient fountain.

Natalia Poulos, Professor of Byzantine Archaeology, led the excavation, which included fifteen students from the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki (11 undergraduates, 2 master’s, and 2 PhD candidates), Assistant Docent Anastasios Tantsis, and Professor Emeritus of Byzantine Archaeology Aristotle Mendzo.

Archaeologists say, this year the excavation continued east of the southern main road (decumanus) at the point where it meets the northern axis of the city (the so-called “Egnatia”). The continuation of the marble-paved road was revealed, on the surface of which a coin (bronze phyllis) of the emperor Leo VI (886-912) was found, which helps to determine the duration of the road’s use. At the point where the two streets converge, a widening (square) seems to have been formed, dominated by a richly decorated building.

Archaeologists say evidence from last year’s excavations leads them to assume it was a fountain. The findings of this year’s research confirm this view and help them better understand its shape and function.

The research of 2022 brought to light part of the rich decoration of the fountain with the most impressive statue depicting Hercules as a boy with a young body.

The recent excavation (2023) revealed the head of another statue: it belongs to a figure of an ageneous man with a rich crown topped by a laurel leaf wreath. This beautiful head seems to belong to a statue of the god Apollo. Like the statue of Hercules, it dates from the 2nd or early 3rd century AD and probably adorned the fountain, which took its final form in the 8th to 9th centuries.

In classical Greek and Roman religion and mythology, Apollo is one of the Olympian gods. He is revered as a god of poetry, the Sun and light, healing and illness, music and dance, truth and prophecy, and archery, among other things.

Philip II, King of Macedon, founded the ancient city of Philippi in 356 BC on the site of the Thasian colony of Crenides near the Aegean Sea. The archaeological site was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2016 for its outstanding Roman architecture, urban layout as a smaller reflection of Rome itself, and significance in early Christianity.

By Oguz Buyukyildirim.

[modernrifle]

it's crazy how few people talk about how clearly codependent anakin & obi-wan were - they were two halves of the same whole, so without anakin, obi-wan cannot exist as a complete person, and without obi-wan, anakin cannot exist as a whole person either, because in order for him to be himself he needs obi-wan as, again, they are part of eachother. their two identites are so comingled they cannot be separted and be how they were, because a huge part of who they were was eachother. obi-wan will always be anakin's and anakin will always be obi-wan's so they both had to become someone new. because jedis' relationships, on a deep level, are practically nonexitent they had to be everything for eachother, neither of them had anyone else to fill the roles of their lives. obi-wan was - had to be, wanted to be - anakin's master, his teacher, his father, his brother, his best friend. i mean, they are even potrayed as light/dark, and we both now the light cannot be without the dark, and vice versa. they even failed to excavate eachother from their focus as reformed individuals - vader obsessed over obi-wan, was only able to show glimmers of his past self when in his presence, obi-wan was so dedicated and devestated by anakin's change/fall/perceived death that he literally locked himself in a desert simply to watch over what remained of anakin (his children), thought about him 24-7, at least in the novels, and actually hallucinated him as some twisted manifestation of guilt, love, grief. obi-wan, the perfect jedi, forsaked his vow to form no attachments simply because he loved anakin too much to do otherwise, his one flaw was always and will always be anakin, and his pure, simple, unadultered love for him, despite everything. anakin latched onto obi-wan and obi-wan never found the strength to pull him off. the loss of eachother destroyed the both of them (though of course anakin was also destroyed by padme, in his mind). even before the betrayal anakin would always want obi-wan to simply stay when he had to go on missions, and obi-wan could not act the same and constently thought about anakin when away - he even in a novel offhandedly mentioned that it was super strange to not have anakin fighting with him, like he forgot he needed both hands. their bond, affection, was deep enough that even after anakin was knighted they stayed close, became closer than brothers, even after death they both sought eachother out. obi-wan gave his life and death to anakin, and anakin the same. obi-wan's death belonged to vader, as the last part of anakin that he needed to kill, and anakin's entire life was centered around obi-wan. this is PURE MADNESS.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 7

While writing The Pirate Planet, Douglas Adams considered that Xanxia could be the Master or the Master's daughter when trying to figure out her motivations.

When he met his Ninth, Tenth, and Twelfth incarnations, the Eighth Doctor was pleased to see them acting as childish as ever.

While excavating Ice Warrior Citadels, Bernice Summerfield had sex with a man named Tim in the egg chamber.

The Second Doctor once saw the musical Hamilton.

Upon meeting the Twelfth Doctor, the Eleventh Doctor thought he was the Master.

Ace has dreamt of being naked and stabbing people before.

The Doctor was friends with Mao Zedong before he rose to power (although he "probably wouldn't listen" to the Doctor after his rise).

Om-Tsor is a drug that the Eighth Doctor once took A LOT of in order to telekinetically stop missiles.

The Second Doctor took Jamie back in time to kill a would-be dictator as a baby as well but was also unable to go through with it.

The Sixth Doctor once commented on his resemblance to Commander Maxil to Peri Brown.

According to the Eighth Doctor, an imminent regeneration feels like "a caterpillar wrapping itself in a chrysalis."

The Eleventh Doctor once said that regenerating in a morgue is something you should only do once.

After receiving word that the Master had died, the Fifth Doctor took Tegan and Turlough to his funeral in the nursing home he had died in. This was a trap, of course, and the Master tried to steal his remaining regenerations. Turlough had to save the Doctor.

As a Time Lord, the Doctor often has flashes of people's futures and could see someone's past when he looks at them.

The Seventh Doctor traveled alone as he got older because he couldn't trust himself with another life.

The role of Sarah Jane Smith was originally cast to April Walker rather than Elisabeth Sladen, but Walker was found to not have chemistry with Pertwee and was thus quietly paid for the contract she had signed on for. Neither Barry Letts nor Sladen ever revealed who the other Sarah Jane was during their lifetimes, and her name was only uncovered by an infotext writer during his research.

The Doctor's psychic potential is so great that even after his final incarnation's death his corpse generated a psychic call for a long time.

In several accounts, the Sixth Doctor killed himself, either after having been convinced to do so by his Seventh self, purposefully piloting the TARDIS into the Rani's tractor beam, sacrificing his chronal energy, etc. Colin Baker finds the exercise bike theory to be very disappointing (so out of respect for him, I do not consider that a possibility).

The Doctor was taught how to perform hypnosis by the Master.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28