#he used to live in a yurt

[lilyhellbender]

…

[moriche]

Inktober Day 10 - Nomadic

Careful not to be a bother, he explored the camp when the sun was out: an entire city, but with yurts rather than houses, tiny bantam guar penned in-between. Near the centre, some moulted silt strider shells formed semi-permanent shelters, used as storage whenever the Zainab lived here for a while. Their former owners towered in the distance, accompanied by a herd of their smaller silt hopper cousins. Fear in a Handful of Dust

India ink and watercolour on paper, 14,8 x 21 cm Pencil on paper, 14,8 x 21 cm

[soli-nepenthe]

A Hallowed Secret

A Wander in Wonder/Alternate

genre: romance/fluff

characters: Sylus & fem!MC

warnings: fluff/terms of endearment/hint of central asian steppe

word count: ~ 1800

When the warriors from the Kael tribe returned, they were dyed with the rich vermillion hues of the setting sun at their backs, looking like heroes blessed by the sun god Yaşk. They descended the last of the dusky green hills with rousing hollers as their sturdy steppe horses swiftly carried them towards camp.

Because the tribe had settled on the outskirts of the khanate capital, Tala, it was a relatively easy distance for a horse to cover. Many other grassland tribes did the same, for no matter how grand the walled city might be, it could hardly contain the multitudes that came to partake of the celebrations. It was a matter of tradition that participants would enjoy a respite at their leisure on the eve before a tournament. 

From your higher vantage point near a small grove of trees, your narrowed eyes searched among the stream of stout men for a familiar shock of silver hair. Your fingers forgot about the basket at your feet, absently fretting with one of the braids that Sylus had re-plaited for you that morning.

Oh! He’s back!

You felt your heart soar with relief upon spotting him. He rode nearer to the front, accompanied by the formidable warrior he had bested the day before in the races, a man named Tumur.

Tarna, who had observed your ever-changing reactions with quiet amusement, set down her basket of leaves, twigs, and berries for wreath-making, and nudged at your shoulder playfully.

“Ah, so, I wasn’t mistaken then. Your eyes show favor to Sylus.”

You turned to face her, trying to feign nonchalance.

“Well, it’s just that he was gone for a long while. He’s the kind to attract trouble wherever he goes.”

“Oh? Is he a troublesome one?”

Tarna kindly handed you your basket, already taking her first steps to head down to the celebrations that had begun in earnest. The gentle breeze already brought with it the tempting smell of roasted meats and fried bread and the aroma of sweet fruits from the yurts below. Even the gentle hum of voices, bells, and drums were setting the promise for a jubilant evening.

“Come on, then! You don’t want to fight off other girls who may want to throw their yoke over him.”

A bitterness settled in your gut at that friendly reminder, not that you didn’t appreciate her good intentions. Your hand reached for the embroidered pouch that you managed to finish in time. You studied the silky black threads with an unforgiving eye. The crow truly looked clumsy and amateurish.

Was there a point in offering this token to him? And would he accept it?

To these young women, it didn’t matter if Sylus was an exotic outsider. They surely appreciated his athleticism, horsemanship, and general boldness of spirit that were the makings of a warrior par excellence here. And even if this place was an illusion, everything about the people and their customs, to how they lived and loved, felt all too real. 

Thrusting the pouch back under your thick belt, you hastened your stride to match Tarna’s.

“Let’s go! I’m also kind of…. hungry.”

Tarna laughed.

“All is well. Let us get our fill tonight!”

The moon goddess’ hand mirror shone brightly like a lamp, casting the valley in a romantic silver glow by the time Sylus had come to seek you out. He had a rather unusual talent for singling you out of a crowd of thousands, whether it was in the dizzying tumult of a metropolitan plaza or in this pastoral tableau of people making merry.

“You’ve been hiding from me, my shepherdess.”

His towering shadow fell over you like a smoky veil.

After you had supped with Tarna and her friends, you did not have the heart to throw yourself into the festivities, given that your fate would be decided forever tomorrow. There were too many variables. Not quite understanding the reason behind your suddenly low spirits, Tarna did not push the matter further and left you to your solitude as you wished.

“Have I?” You finally raised your eyes to meet his keen-sighted ruby ones. 

Like the night before, he had tarried with the elders and men of the tribe, but this time he eschewed his role as poet-musician. He came to you with neither wine nor music to dull your anxious mind. You wished he had.

“Oh, yes, I believe so. You and Tarna appear to be as thick as thieves now. In passing, she admitted to me that she finds you pleasant company but… a strange one.”

You perked up in your seat. “Me? How so?”

“She says she knows of no other girl who, and I quote: ‘Makes love with fiery eyes to her beloved and runs away like a timid lamb the next’. Were you too shy to welcome me back?”

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment at her direct phrasing. 

“H-Hardly. Also, my eyes were not “making love” with your face. Or any other part of your body for that matter, just to be clear.”

“Of course not.” 

The familiar vexing smugness in his expression returned, a sight that would’ve had you seething any other day. But tonight, under the mystic light of the moon, you found that your heart was undergoing a different kind of turmoil. 

You had half a mind to flee to the sanctuary of your yurt.

Before you could implement such a hasty plan, a raucous and upbeat melody soon replaced the sentimental strains of the morin khuur. Young and old alike began to dance in a wide circle now, clapping and cheering, their faces tinged with the amber glow of the bonfire. 

It was clear how abundantly happy they were.

“Dance with me.”

The deep and pure tones of his voice were like a lifeline that tugged you back. 

He leaned forward as he offered you his hand. 

“I have two left feet! Besides, I wouldn’t want to cause offence by attempting a traditional grassland dance.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one will be watching us, I promise you that.”

You stared openly at each other for a long while, the rest of the world falling away as your gazes tangled together. It was a peculiar habit of late. Was it the effect of the thrumming music or was it the depths of his wine red eyes that made you feel almost drunk?

Taking his chance, he seized your hand that was absently adrift in the air, pulling you to your feet in one deft movement until you were chest to chest, snug in his hold. 

He pressed a reverential kiss against it.  

“Come with me, Şavanika.”

If you were guilty of only one thing tonight, it was for not always matching the beat. And yet, there were no tongues wagging in censure as you danced together in wanton revelry. Under his guiding touch, every hard line and edge of your body was smoothed away to airy lightness. The pair of you continued to laugh and smile, no matter how many occasions you stumbled into the safety of his burly arms. He caught you, unfailingly, every single time.

Slightly winded, with his chest heaving in a similar manner to yours, he looked upon you as if you were his whole world. Intrepid fingers pushed away unruly tendrils that had fallen over your eyes. 

“There’s…there’s something I want to show you.”

You took several breaths, trying to steady your own galloping heartbeat. 

“Lead the way.”

Even as he bore you away to a special place, you felt as though you could still hear the plucked strings of a zither, a divine and otherworldly tune, haunting your path. You gripped his waist tighter as his horse flew over wide blue plains and past silvery rills of water, looking like the fallen diadem of some earth goddess. But nothing was ever so magical as the sight of a cascade of water that sprang from seemingly barren heights into the gleaming opal-like waters of a lake strewn with stars.

It was a place of perfect untouched beauty.

“Tell me, beloved, is this humble gift to your liking?”

He helped you dismount with ease, one hand tethered loosely about your waist as he waited for you to speak. Venturing forward carefully, you drank in the sublimity of the scene, your eyes sparkling with a newly kindled light.

“It's…beautiful.”

It was impossible to remain profoundly unaffected by the splendour he lay at your feet.

“This place…is sacred and holy to all the tribes. And so, I vow to you, we will return home, whatever it takes. The beauty of this transient dream will always be with us, just as my feelings for you will never waver.” 

He paused to catch a lone tear that strayed down the curve of your cheek.

“Trust in me. In us.”

He stepped closer to you, reaching for your trembling hands. He was so warm.

In this numinous place, you felt as though each and every one of your senses had been ignited to a degree of poignant clarity. The man pouring his heart before you now was neither the enigmatic, devilish Onychinus head nor a brother warrior of the Kael tribe. He was just Sylus. And you were not merely an elite Hunter with a terrible weight on your shoulders. There was nothing here for you to prove. There was nothing here to fight.

You loved him. 

It was that simple. 

You were a woman in love.

Even if you couldn’t put a voice to those feelings just yet.

With countless emotions bearing down on you all at once, you edged closer, bracing yourself against the grounding solidity of his body. As the stars wheeled high above your heads, you held each other, locked in tender silence. After a moment, he bent forward, touching his forehead to yours. You could tell he was holding back, his eyes elated by the love he could see in your dazzling eyes. But for you, this tantalizing distance was no longer enough. Like the brushing of petals, you claimed his lips for the first time in delicate dreamy yearning.

“I trust you. Wholeheartedly.”

He breathed in your hushed words with a gasp of emotion, letting your lips linger softly against his, smiling, before you braved to close the space once more. As the kiss deepened, he held you achingly close, sweeping you into his arms in the way you had always wanted to be held by him — like a true lover. 

Whether this secret vow was blessed by the gods or not, you did not know. You believed in him and you had each other, and that was enough, whatever Fate willed.

On this star-studded night, standing together amidst this pristine wilderness, tomorrow felt too far away.

END.

Final Notes:

Thank you so very much for reading! This is my first foray into LADS fanfic territory, especially here on tumblr. I hope I was able to stay true to the feel of the characters as shown in the Grasslands Romance story, in view of their developing relationship. For me, I think we get a taste of who Sylus really is underneath the intimidating and luxe outer shell. He brought a lot of reassurance to an understandably worried but tries to play it off like nothing MC. I think Grasslands will go down as one of my favourite Sylus cards next to Nightplumes.

Please feel free to like and reblog or comment! But please do not copy/steal/feed this written work into AI.

Further notes:

The god Yask was inspired by a sun god in Turkic myth called Koyash. Although the original story had a more Mongolian feel, I thought it would be nice to kind of expand it to more of a Central Asian Steppe influence (so, I hope no one minds too much ^^;)

I was also partly inspired by John Keats's from Endymion introduction.

Anyway, adieu, gentle readers!

And special thanks to @strangergraphics for their beautiful dividers.

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

Question: would buff Ingo (normal, regular real life buff, not that shit where every muscles is chisled but where despite the layer of fat there is still noticable musscle) be as cursed as mustache Emmet?

I'm asking this because almost everytime I think of it it sends shivers done my spine in a 'that doesn't look like a deer" way. Like, my man may have some muscles but he's depressed and malnourished, his bones will show underneath the lean muscles hes gained way. A healthy Ingo, I may be fine with being buff but regular Ingo? Must be a plywood plank that I think I can snap in half yet for some reason is used to construct houses.

Of course Emmet is not that type of buff either, more like a oh that lanky frame actually has some strength to it way.

HISUI ERA INGO LOOKS FUCKING INSANE UNDER THOSE CLOTHES, THIS MAN IS THE DEFINITION OF WIRY

Gaeric is constantly trying to get Ingo to find more healthy workouts and Ingo is just ◉_◉

part of the problem is that Ingo can and will forget to eat unless someone (Lady Sneasler) reminds him or he has guests at his yurt (half the time he's living in Lady Sneasler's den, helping with the kits, and he can't accurately tell what time of day it is)

Ingo is arguably only alive because Arceus feels guilty for getting him stuck here and because Lady Sneasler adopted him

Once Ingo gets back to Unova though, he continues to "work out" (he climbs on shit instinctively and it makes Emmet hysterical every time) while also having an actually decent and reliable schedule and food source, so Ingo will end up looking significantly less cursed XD

[letsgoletsgetit08]

It's A Trip! Ch. 1

summary: It started off as a joke, the proposition to road trip from the east coast to the west coast for Hongjoong and Seonghwa's wedding, but then Mingi said yes. And Jongho wasn't about to pass up that opportunity.

warnings/tags: mdni!, mxm, smut, recreational drug use, tropes, fluff, light angst, wooyoung is a little shit, jongho is whipped, au non-famous, siri play maknae on top by stray kids

pairing: top!jongho x bottom!mingi

author's note: I couldn't resist the idea of a little stoner road trip situation with unspoken feelings and Wooyoung trying to play matchmaker behind the scenes. Loosely based on the song of the same title by Joywave that got stuck in my head recently and fits the vibes, I think. Anyway. Enjoy!

word count: 21k (around 3.5k per chapter, 6 chapters total)

ao3 link: It's A Trip!

It's A Trip!

Day One

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were getting married. A destination wedding in the middle of Joshua Tree National Park, where they had rented out luxury yurts for their friend group to stay in. Everyone else had chosen to fly, considering none of them lived close by. But Jongho had a different idea: why didn't some of them take a road trip instead? 

He was half joking when he originally suggested it, but then Mingi was immediately game - something he hadn't exactly been expecting - and Wooyoung and San agreed as well. The latter part was not as important to Jongho (no offense to them). But he missed Mingi dearly, though he would probably never admit that. They lived a few hours apart now and going from college roommates to just regular adult roommates, seeing each other daily to maybe seeing each other a few times a year was quite the adjustment. It was weird not having him around. Empty. Jongho himself was the one who was technically gone, if you wanted to split hairs. He had taken a job as a voice professor at Brown after he had finished his masters degree at Juilliard, leaving Mingi alone in New York, where he worked as a music producer. Jongho hadn't realized how attached he had grown to the man until he was gone.

By attached he meant… well. He didn't really know what he meant. He had never thought of it as attraction, per se, when they lived together. But when Mingi moved out and they both started dating around, Jongho found himself unable to really care about, concentrate on, or be interested in anyone he had tried to date. He found himself comparing every single one of them to Mingi, subconsciously at first, but then when he became cognizant of it, it was very obvious and almost became a compulsive habit.

He found himself trying to explain his breakups to his friends, but the real reasonings were always left unspoken:

“Hyunjin is nice but he is always cold.” Mingi was always warm. 

“Taehyun is great except he doesn't respond to my jokes the right way,” the way Mingi would get them. 

“Chaeryeong is so sweet but she doesn't like to be taken care of,” Mingi liked to be treated like a princess.

He had no clue how Mingi felt about him in return. They had always just been friends. Although, to be fair, he was significantly closer to Mingi than he was to the rest of the friend group. Mingi had the uncanny ability to see through whatever facade he was putting on and would dig deeper without even really trying. Just studied him in a way others didn't, seeing past the surface. 

He was doing it now, in fact, from the passenger seat. 

It was 7am and he had just picked Mingi up from his place in Brooklyn in the rental car, a spacious and brand new Toyota 4-Runner. Mingi's idea. 

“We'll kill each other if we're stuck in a tiny Camry together for six days.” He had reasoned. 

He was right. Plus, the 4-Runner was really cool, he couldn't lie. 

His 4am departure from Providence wasn't wearing on him quite yet, but he felt tired just looking at how bouncy and full of energy Mingi was. The man always had a hard time concealing his excitement. His heart had done backflips at the sight of him bounding down the front steps of his brownstone, duffel bag flung over his shoulder, suit bag in the other hand, sunglasses on, black and ivory headphones around his neck. He looked better than Jongho had remembered, but as he entered the car with an enthusiastic, “What's up!” Jongho noted that he still smelled the same.

He had missed him so much. 

Jongho didn't say that though, naturally. Instead, he said, “You're too enthusiastic for 7am, Mingi.” 

Mingi barked a laugh, “I'm just excited to see you, man!” 

Jongho probably blushed, but turned his head to look out the window, hoping Mingi had missed it. 

“I'm glad to see you, too.” He mumbled quietly, only loud enough for Mingi to barely make out.

It wasn't too long of a trip to Philadelphia from New York, and Jongho couldn't help but mourn the only time he had with Mingi alone in the car as it passed too fast for his liking. 

He tried to make the most of it, making Mingi keel over with laughter as he sang every part to Bohemian Rhapsody, listened to him talk about the new artist he was working with, how excited he was for the album he was producing to drop, and to Jongho's surprise (and well-contained joy), the story about Mingi's somewhat recent breakup. It hadn't been super serious, but he seemed similarly dissatisfied as Jongho had often found himself when it came to his ever passing relationships. 

He felt even more chuffed as Mingi remarked, “It's not that I didn't like her, dude, it's just like,” he thought about it for a second, “No one is as easy to be around as you, Jongho. It's kind of annoying.”

“I know what you mean.” Jongho admitted. 

“Well if we're both still single at 40, let's just say screw it.” Mingi joked. 

Of course he was joking. Jongho knew there was no way Mingi saw him as anything but a friend, likely closer to a brother. Yet he still stuck out his hand for Mingi to shake to seal the deal, “Deal.” And he was so serious. 

He figured a platonic marriage of convenience would still be better than one with someone else whom he didn't even like half as much as he liked Mingi. 

It was over before he knew it, the drive feeling closer to twenty minutes than it had two hours. 

Soon, they were pulling up in front of Wooyoung and San's townhouse. The two of them emerged glued together as they always were, Wooyoung empty handed aside from his pillow, San insistent upon carrying their luggage for them, a gentleman as always. 

They were a little nauseating. 

Maybe Jongho was just jealous. 

Wooyoung met Jongho's eye from the backseat via the rear view mirror, giving him a deviously knowing look. He was the only person on the planet who had an inkling about Jongho's feelings for Mingi. Jongho was sure that meant San knew, too, but he was much more inclined to stay out of it than was his fiance. 

Jongho rolled his eyes at Wooyoung, earning a wicked smile in return. 

Of the eight of them, he and Wooyoung acted the most like siblings. The fact that they were the closest in age probably contributed to that. Jongho hadn't even intentionally told Wooyoung about his feelings for Mingi - the man was just an annoying pest and happened to notice how much Jongho talked about him after he moved out. When Wooyoung had pointed it out, acting as if he had just stumbled upon Jongho's deepest darkest secret (which honestly, he basically had), Jongho hadn't even been able to think of any believable way to deny it and Wooyoung had taken that for what it was, an endorsement of the truth.

Wooyoung had insisted on being in charge of planning the road trip and had calculated that they could make it in plenty of time, an entire two days to spare (one for the bachelor party, the other for the rehearsal), with only three nights spent on the road, meaning each day entailed on average around ten hours of drive time. With four people to rotate through, it really wasn't that bad. Their destination that night was Knoxville, Tennessee, with the idea of stopping in Nashville and Memphis the next day before ultimately arriving in Fayetteville, Arkansas for their second night. Fayetteville was slightly off the path, but it was a college town and Wooyoung had found, “the cutest little Inn!” right on the street downtown where all the college kids partied. They themselves were all only five or so, give or take, years out of undergrad. The last night would be spent in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Also a little off the path, but “It’s Santa Fe, you guys. Come on. It's Santa Fe.” The sentiment meant nothing to the three of them but they trusted Wooyoung. Because he insisted upon them doing so. It would be fun. Trust Wooyoung! That could easily have been the theme of the road trip. Just trust Wooyoung, everything will be great. And really, he did. They all did. Wooyoung had almost a sixth sense for things like this. Everything he touched, planned, organized, whatever have you, turned to gold. It's a big reason Jongho felt comfortable with his friend knowing his secret. Part of him thought maybe, just maybe, if Wooyoung was involved somehow, that things with Mingi would just magically work out. 

By the time they reached middle-of-nowhere, Virginia, Jongho and Mingi had both had their turns driving and were switching off to the back seat so that San could take over, Wooyoung joining him up front. 

Wooyoung had cornered Jongho in the bathroom in the gas station at which they were refueling the car and themselves, “You need to tell him how you feel.” He said in a rush, quietly, just in case.

“Hell fucking no.” Jongho replied, “I will not be saying anything unless I have cold, hard, proof right in front of me that he has any sort of feelings towards me outside of friendship.”

Wooyoung shoved his arm, “That’s stupid! I can see how he looks at you!”

Jongho huffed, “Wooyoung, you think everyone wants to fuck each other all the time.”

“Everyone does want to fuck each other all the time! Look at Hongjoong and Seonghwa! I called that before literally anyone.” Wooyoung argued. 

It was true. Jongho couldn’t deny it. Well, he shouldn’t deny it, but he sure was going to, “I’m not convinced Seonghwa hadn’t tipped you off to that at some point before. You really can’t take credit for predicting that.”

Wooyoung sighed, “Believe me or don’t but I did call it. And I’m calling this, too. You and Mingi will have confessed by the end of the trip. And I would put money on Mingi not being the one to do something about it first. Actually, I have put money on it. I owe San $200 if Mingi confesses first.” He looked stupidly proud of himself.

“God, I knew you would tell San! You two might as well share a brain.” Jongho pushed past Wooyoung, ignoring his empty taunts and threats as he walked back out to the car. 

Back on the road, Mingi was trying to work some on his laptop, but had to put it away, saying he was going to get car sick if he kept at it. Jongho was getting sleepy, but was too jittery and nervous being in the back seat with Mingi only a foot or so away. 

Mingi’s head tipped back, leaning on the head rest of the seat, his eyes closed, a somewhat pained expression on his face. 

Jongho couldn’t resist it, he reached up and moved a strand of hair off of Mingi’s face where it looked like it would be uncomfortably tickling his nose had he left it. 

“You alright?” Jongho asked him softly. 

Mingi nodded but didn’t open his eyes, “Yeah. Just getting sleepy.”

“Work isn't too stressful?” Jongho inquired, a little worried about him. Mingi was a perfectionist and had a hard time not letting little things get to him. Jongho had been there for more than one panic attack due to stress from a project but mostly from pressure put upon himself. 

“It is stressful. But it's okay. I've got better coping mechanisms now. Had to, without you around to look after me.” Mingi smiled, though his eyes stayed closed. 

“Okay. Well good. Get some sleep then, yeah?” Jongho insisted.

“Mmh yeah good call.” Mingi said thickly, already half asleep.

San had been pretending not to listen, but suddenly they were listening to a very dry podcast on European history rather than the music that had been playing. Wooyoung protested for a second - he had been putting on an unsolicited concert for the whole car, but San insisted, “Driver gets aux!” and shot a quick glance to the backseat, then back to Wooyoung, trying to communicate with just his eyes. Wooyoung seemed to understand and just said, “Okay, fine.” 

San found Jongho’s eyes in the rearview mirror this time, giving him his tiniest, proudest little smile, dimples barely visible. Jongho stuck his tongue out in reply.

Mingi’s head kept tipping forward and waking him up. Jongho noticed this and reached over to put his hand on Mingi’s knee, shaking it lightly to get the man to wake up. When he did, Jongho simply looked at him and patted his lap. Mingi understood and leaned over sideways until his head was in Jongho’s lap, fingers carding softly through his long, pink hair, falling asleep immediately. 

Eastern Tennessee was surprisingly pretty, Jongho had to admit. A big reason Wooyoung had agreed to this trip was because it was late October and the fall foliage was stunning. Perfect for someone who had recently taken up photography and had a natural talent for it. It would be interesting to see how it all changed from east to west as they traveled. Wooyoung had made several frantic stops on their drive so far, asking to pull over to marked overlooks, snapping a few quick pictures, then moving on. 

At least he was fast about it. 

After far too long in the car together, the four of them nearly stumbled on their exit after pulling into the hotel parking lot. Legs stiff, glad to no longer be sharing the same oxygen, at least briefly. Wooyoung had thankfully (begrudgingly) booked two separate rooms, after quite the protest, arguing that it would be like old times! A sleepover! The only thing that convinced him was San pointing out that they wouldn't be able to have sex if all four of them shared a room. That changed his mind real quick.

You could technically call it a hotel, but the three of them who weren't Wooyoung were a little dumbfounded at what they had just pulled up to. 

“You booked us Hobbit huts?!” Was the question making its way in some form out of their mouths. 

They had been asleep when Wooyoung pulled the car up, missing the sign reading “Ancient Lore Village” on their way in. 

“I think what you meant to say was ‘Wooyoung, this is so cool, we're so happy you booked us the Hobbit huts, how will we ever thank you enough?’” Wooyoung said smugly. 

Jongho hid his excitement, never wanting to give Wooyoung the satisfaction. 

Mingi looked at him and smiled, reading straight through him as always, but didn't give it away. 

“So when you agreed to book separate rooms, you-” Mingi started. 

“Booked the two bedroom Hobbit hut, yeah!” Wooyoung finished for him. 

Upon entering, (Mingi having to duck through the entrance), the hut was pretty fucking cool. Not an exact replica to the franchise, likely for copyright reasons, but the ambience was effective. 

Mingi told Jongho he could shower first, which he was grateful for. He tried to let the hot water relax his muscles, but all he could think about was the fact that he would be sharing a bed with Mingi that night. Imagination running wild, he had to calm himself down and push away the images his brain was feeding him of Mingi in bed with him, cuddling, or kissing, or better yet- no. No. He had to stop or he'd end up needing to take care of himself in the shower and that felt a little too lewd. He cranked the shower handle over to cold in a valiant attempt to snap the fuck out of it. It worked well enough.

He stepped out of the shower and into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist at the exact time Mingi walked into the room. 

Jongho would gaslight himself about this moment later, but he swore Mingi checked him out as he announced, “Pizza is here!” 

Jongho was frozen to the spot, “Okay, thanks, I'll be there soon.”

Mingi tucked his bottom lip under his front teeth, a habit of his that didn't necessarily indicate attraction like it might on most people, but Jongho could see it on his face. He was definitely checking him out. 

“You been working out?” Mingi asked, voice low. 

Jongho couldn’t help himself, flexing a little as he walked over to his suitcase, “Yeah, actually, I have been.”

He heard Mingi swallow, “Nice. Um. Yeah. You're looking good, dude.” 

Jongho pulled a shirt on, facing away from Mingi, “Thanks, it's good to know the hard work wasn't really for naught.” 

“Definitely not.” Mingi was digging through his own bag across the room now, pulling some baggies out that Jongho had a hunch on what they were. 

Jongho finished getting dressed after Mingi left and headed into the living room where Wooyoung and San were sitting practically on top of each other on a loveseat, leaving room beside Mingi for Jongho to sit next to him on the couch. 

San remembered he had packed a cooler full of beer and seltzers and got up to heft it inside, asking if anyone wanted anything. 

They did, of course, and Mingi used the opportunity of San passing out their drinks of choice to survey the room on his offerings, “I have gummies!” He pulled out the two bags, “This one is a blend, but this one is all indica. I use it to sleep but anyone is welcome if you're not a sativa fan.” 

“I thought you were more of a flower guy?” Jongho observed.

Mingi shrugged, not meeting his eyes, “You don't smoke though. For your voice. Right?”

Huh. He hadn't expected Mingi to remember that. Or be so thoughtful. “Oh. Yeah. You're right. Thanks!” 

Mingi pulled one of the hybrid gummies out of its bag, looking at Jongho questioningly. Jongho nodded, reaching for it with his hand. Mingi pulled his hand back, “Magic words?” 

Jongho couldn’t help but chuckle, “Please get me high, Mingi.”

Mingi smiled, opening his mouth to demonstrate what he wanted from Jongho. 

Jongho obeyed. The trip Mingi's hand took from mid-air to Jongho's mouth seemed to last forever, the look in Mingi's eyes dark as he placed the gummy on Jongho's tongue, finger applying pressure to hinge his jaw shut and encourage chewing. 

Jongho felt heat building low in his gut. It was hot. Mingi was hot. Did he have any clue what he was doing to him? Jongho turned away, uncomfortable from being under the spotlight, turning towards the pizza in front of them instead. 

The room was weirdly silent for a second. Wooyoung and San looking at each other, trying to ignore what they had just witnessed. 

Mingi was either oblivious or didn't care, and passed the bag over to the others before also digging into his pizza. 

None of them made it further than halfway into The Fellowship of the Rings (when in Rome, right?) before they were drifting off to sleep. The first quarter of the movie was spent with them raucously high, quoting the movie they had seen a thousand times, making fun of the parts that were fun to laugh at. But then the weed, the beer, the full stomachs and the long day seemed to hit all at once and Mingi was once again nodding off beside Jongho. Wooyoung was snoring softly, tucked into San's chest. 

Jongho shook Mingi awake, “Come on, let's go to bed. You've gotta at least brush your teeth.”

Mingi groaned, not moving. Jongho sighed and grabbed his arm, heavy with sleep, draped it around his shoulder and worked his other hand around Mingi's waist, helping him stand up. “Guys, go to bed!” He called to Wooyoung and San. They stirred sleepily as Jongho reached down to turn off the TV. San ended up bridal carrying Wooyoung into their bedroom since the man was refusing to walk on his own, whining and grumbling, bratty as ever. 

Jongho limped Mingi into their room, propped him against the bathroom counter, and dug through his bathroom bag in search of his toothpaste. He found them under a small bottle of lube and some condoms. Huh. Interesting. He probably just carried that bag with him when he was hooking up with someone. He shook his head to rid his brain of the dirty thoughts that were creeping in and helped Mingi brush his teeth. 

He was awake enough after that and went to flop clumsily straight onto the middle of the bed after stripping down to his boxers. Jongho swallowed. So Mingi still slept like that. Surely Wooyoung had booked separate beds for the rest of their trip. Jongho didn't think he could bear being in such proximity to a nearly naked Mingi the whole trip. It would probably kill him. 

He finished up in the bathroom then joined Mingi in the bed, not meaning to wake him up, but it was hard not to seeing as he had to roll him over in order to have room to climb in. 

Mingi made a dissatisfied noise, then when he realized Jongho was in the bed with him, mumbled, “Jong. Cuddle me.”

Jongho wasn't sure he'd heard him right, “What's that?”

Mingi reached back and grabbed Jongho's arm, tossing it over his waist, saying more clearly this time, “Hold me. Please?” 

And who was Jongho to say no? 

He slept in a t-shirt, unlike his friend, but still, the feeling of Mingi’s skin through the thin fabric of his shirt was doing something to his brain. He pulled Mingi close, jumping on the opportunity that was being presented to him. They fit together remarkably well, he noted as Mingi melted into the embrace, sighing a raspy, “G'night.” 

Jongho smiled into his bare shoulder blade, and whispered, “Goodnight, Mingi,” his mind spinning happily as he drifted off.

continue reading, chapter two here

[radioactive-metal]

Each squad Member as a Joke political Ideology

I feel like I should post cause I haven’t done that in a while. Casino fic is so close to being done it’s like 1 more chapter.

Cat: Liftocracy: the leader is whoever can bench press the most. Very simple. My girl hits the gym and can and would bench press Tyler if he would let her. It’s a natural choice.

Kal: libertarianism with Mongolian characteristics: You can do whatever you want so long as it involves riding a horse, living on the steppes of Eurasia, or drinking fermented horse milk. You also must live in a yurt. He raises horses with aurora and ferments his own horse milk. Very based and mongol pilled

Scarlett: chocolate coin Capitalism: it’s like normal capitalism but you are required to convince everyone you do trade with to accept chocolate coin as a valid form of payment. My girl becomes giga rich as she uses syldrathi empath powers and the equally powerful power of boobs to make ludicrous chocolate coin exchange rates.

Zila: Enlightened centrism: we biologically engineer everyone to be incapable of having a political ideology. How do we do it? Triple the CDC budget and lace the air with crack.

Finian: Fully automated luxury space bisexual cowboy techncracy: we all live in space waited on by robots and free to be creative and required to wear cowboy hats while also being bisexual and devoting all the GDP to science.

Tyler: Pentagonism: Triple the Defense Aurora Legion budget. Black projects my beloved

Aurora: Fantastical democracy: it’s normal democracy but you are legally required to pretend all technology is magic and that you live in fantasy land. I don’t know why. I think she likes wizard of oz too much. Pay no attention to the eshvaren behind the curtain.

Saedii: The young adult novel dystopia recreation movement: she read hunger games once and went “HEY LETS DO THAT! I LOVE BLOODSPORTS!”

bonus: Magellan: Súper happy fun time robot subjecationism: what if we replaced you weird meatbag politicians with robots? We could be inefficient and corrupt 500% faster!

[changelingsandothernonsense]

OC Most/Least Fav ask: 4, 5, 17, 33 (any/all OCs!)

4. Scents (perfume, soap fragrance, naturally-occurring, food or event-related, etc.)

Sydari- She really loves lavender and makes herself a perfume out of their oil. She has a whole long planter box full of lavender plants at Severin Manor. She greatly dislikes the Cistern, however, and is hoping there's a way she can move where she holds her Guild meetings.

Erra- Erra loves the smell of cinnamon, and he tends to hang bags of spices in his yurt that feature the bark heavily. It also features in the incense he likes. Erra's used to living in smaller communities, where waste disposal is far more simple, he therefore finds himself overwhelmed whenever he enters a town with a population greater than 200. Vivec City is the worst in his opinion, the coming together of so many people doing so many things all at once is both a blessing and a curse. He tolerates the cantons for the access he's given to foreign goods.

Josh- Josh likes Jasmine flower as both a scent and a flavouring. It's delicate and subtle and reminds him of home. Most of his soaps and creams have the scent infused into it. He's been known to dab an oil made from it and a few other complimentary scents behind his ear. Josh has a big issue with body odour and will readily admit to dropping clients who don't meet his standards in that department. There's a story he has about an orcish client he once had out in Hammerfell that he dropped after he refused to bathe and the smell got too much for him. He's an ass about it.

5. Sounds

Sydari- She likes the sounds on Lake Honrich on an early summer night. There's a buzzing energy to everything that fills her with anticipation. The sounds of twilight make her feel hope. She dislikes the chitter of rats and mice, skeevers are even worse. They remind her of sleeping in warehouses, where they'd bite and nip at any bare skin you had while you slept. It could make you sick and she'll do anything not to be reminded of that time.

Erra- Erra plays the ney and generally likes the sound the wood instrument makes. He can also throat sing and starts teaching Josh how to do it not long after they get together. As stated above, whilst Erra doesn't necessarily hate large cities but he is often overwhelmed by them. This includes the noise of thousands of people doing things. It's why Josh gives him scrolls to use when he gets lost. He'll arrive straight back at the apartments the two are borrowing from Maera and can either start again or wait until Josh gets back so they can get lost shopping together.

Josh- Josh likes the sound of the ocean, it makes him feel calm. The sounds of waves breaking on the shore is one of the few things that sends him to sleep. He likes music, particularly how the vibrations hit him, he just has not musical talent himself. As for sounds he dislikes, it's storms. He's always disliked the booming of thunder and the bright flashes of lightening and it's gotten worse since he burst his left eardrum. He can't figure out the direction a sound is coming from anymore and things often startle him as a result. Thunder is no different.

17. Textures

Sydari- She's not overly texture adverse, but what she really does enjoy are taffy treats. She liked pulling on the strings of spun sugar until they snap. They're chewy and sweet and stick in your teeth. She could do without the feeling of hessian fabric on her skin and understands Joshi's preference for silks.

Erra- Erra likes anything hot, oily, or drowning in broth. This guy comes from a protein forward culture and therefore struggles when it comes to consuming vegetables. He dislikes how some of them go mushy. As for clothing, Erra's not picky so long as what he's wearing is durable. He doesn't like anything that restricts his movements, though this is out of practicality rather than discomfort. He likes wool, mostly because he's amazed by the process of making it.

Josh- Joshi's the one with all the aversions. He hates eggs of any kind, doesn't matter how you cook them or what animal they dropped out of the ass of...it's probably why he hates eggs in the first place. Unfortunately for him, kwama eggs are super popular in his homeland and he's had to suffer through more dinners than he can count that include it. He's appreciate it if people would skip the eggs. What he does like is the fluffiness of marshmerrow cakes. He likes how the break apart when he chews them without being dry. He still enjoys them, even if he can't taste them properly, just because of the texture. Joshi favours silk, cotton and really light linen above anything else and hates any garment that's too tight. He hates anything itchy, and sometimes seams bother him. He likes movement and breathing room.

33. Time of Day/Night

Sydari- Most of her work is done at night, so she tends to keep a more nocturnal schedule. It's not uncommon to find Sydari coming home in the wee hours and sleeping until noon. She's not sure if it's always been this way, or if it's just out of necessity, she'd always been safer sleeping through the day and doesn't see a good reason to change that. It matches up with her companion's schedule well. Just don't make her meet you before 11 am.

Erra- Erra gets up super early, he knows that. It's just how he's wired, he's had to be up with the herds or making sure he joins a hunt at the crack of dawn for most of his life. He's just used to it, though he does struggle to stay up late as a result. He's usually had it by the time the moons are high in the sky, so celebrations that run late tend to make him grumpy.

Josh- Joshi has no sleep schedule and it's hard to pick when he's gonna be awake at any one time. He has a habit of staying awake for days on end only to crash and get lost in his dreams for roughly the same length of time. You're more likely to see him up and about in the very early morning or in the evening. Before he caught Corprus he used to wake up at around noon and stay up most of the night. It was impossible to get him to meet anyone before midday. These days he's awake when he's awake and that's it. He does like looking at the stars when he gets to see them.

[sibirsibir]

Yurts have been a distinctive feature of life in Central Asia for at least two and a half thousand years. The first written description of a yurt used as a dwelling was recorded by the ancient Greek historian Herodotus. He described yurt-like tents as the dwelling place of the Scythians, a horse riding-nomadic nation who lived in the Great Steppe - northern Black Sea and Central Asian region from around 600 BC to AD 300

[gallavich-gunk]

List of time fiona cries in Shameless(US):

Season 1 episode 8 "its time to kill the turtle" fiona is forced to work at a sports bar where she is objectified

Season 1 episode 9 "but at last came a knock" fiona is confronted with the first return of Monica and makes the point she was left to mother her children when she needed a mother herself

Season 2 episode 4 "a beautiful mess" goes to toilet after Craig heissener and wife come to the Gallaghers, not fully clear why she cries maybe as she's sad she let Debbie down with her party or she feels bad about sleeping with a married man

Season 2 episode 10 "a great cause"

She was relying on Monica to help with the family while she got her GED and started doing things for herself but realising after Monica crashed a car and stole the squirrel fund this wasn't going to work

Season 2 episode 12 "fiona interrupted" the fallout of Monica trying to kill herself

Season 3 episode 5 "the sins of my caretaker" Jimmy and fiona got into a fight because Jimmy got so upset his dad was gay and kept complaining while fiona had to dig up a body and then Jimmy left

Season 3 episode 6 "cascading failures"

The kids have been taken by dcfs

Season 3 episode 12 "survival of the fittest" Steve has left her and she just had to tell Frank he was dying because of alcohol and needs to keep himself alive for his kids

Season 4 episode 5 "there's the rub"

Fiona was just arrested after Liam got into her coke

Season 4 episode 6 "iron city"

Fiona is checked in at prison and again when on phone to lip about how Liam was harmed in the overdose

Season 4 episode 8 "hope springs paternal" everyone has left fiona alone in the house as she pissed everyone off especially lip who blames her for what happened to liam

Season 4 episode 9 "legend of bonnie and carl" fiona struggles to get a job and after being rejected by the cuppers goes and blames that dickhead brother guy

Season 4 episode 10 "Liver I hardly know her" fiona got stuck in sheboiagain and feels bad for fucking things up

Season 5 episode 6 "crazy love" had a long run of no tears but then Jimmy Steve returns and she cheats on husband gus with him

Season 6 episode 3 "the F word" fiona cries several times due to hormones but also dealing with a lot of family drama, dealing with the fallout of her marriage and navigating shawn having come off the wagon

Season 6 episode 9 "a yurt of ones own" after Shawn's son finds Carl's gun and he potentially loses custody he blames it on fiona and they temporarily break up

Season 6 episode 12 "familia supra gallegorious omnia!" Frank reveals shawn is still using heroine at fiona and Shawn's wedding and then shawn walks out on her

Season 7 episode 8 "you sold me the laundromat, remember?" Fiona has a hysterical breakdown whilst trying to fix the laundromat and everything going wrong at once

Season 7 episode 11 "happily ever after" fiona has to put etta in assisted living (honestly RIP Etta so was such a great character)

Season 7 episode 12 "requiem for a slut" She tears up a bit at Monica's funeral

Season 8 episode 6/7 "face it youre gorgeous"/"going down like the titanic" probably one of fionas biggest breakdowns of the whole series, she doesn't have lunch money, basically ford's a dickhead she looses all her money, her car and her apartment building and misses Ian going into prison

Then she leaves in the next few episodes and probably cries then too? If she does I missed it lol

Also please appreciate this data I gathered for no reason other than I wanted to✨️

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, Pt. 12

Morvani, after a good many more instructions, gestured to the ashes below, at a particular bone and a bit of leather beneath it. "I want you to take one of my bones, and the silver sandals I was wearing when they burned me."

"I thought that was--wasn't allowed," Haj-deek said, "To take things from family tombs."

"It's perfectly fine if you belong to the family and are being told to do it, both of which I am doing now," she said, "The bone will allow you to better ask for the protection of your family, should you need it, and the sandals...well..."

Here a rather devilish grin crossed Morvani's face.

"My sons will recognize them, if they have forgotten everything else of their mortal lives."

Haj-deek couldn't help but laugh at that, but then thought of something that quickly took it back. She made certain to speak only when she had knelt to take the bone (a knuckle, she thought) and ash-covered sandals. "I was told to close the entrance I fell into. What--what should I do? What would you have me do?"

"Do as you were asked. I do not want our tomb pillaged and plundered by bandits and thieves. Mark it somehow, so later you might be able to return...but do as you were asked. But before you leave - follow me."

"Follow you?" she questioned, as Morvani's spectral form left the ashen pile. "Where?"

"Someone must make the introductions, and as your father is unable, it must be me. It is time for you to meet your family."

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

As it turned out, one of her ancestors was formerly employed in ensuring a long-buried mine stayed intact, and was thus able to show her how to collapse the doorway. "Who would have thought that I could help a member of my house so long after my death? With simple knowledge from a lifetime in the mines?"

And despite her impending departure there was a small horde of Dagoths, of all ages, who would wait and watch her as she closed what had been their only link to the outside world in two eras.

It warmed her heart to see them so happy to see her and help her. Once more she felt the glow of no longer being alone...but it was neutered of its fullness when she watched the rocks collapse over the spot.

I will come back, she thought to herself, I WILL.

She could not think how to mark the spot, until she looked at her map. And making a rough guess - it was between two others nearby - she marked it, waiting carefully for the ink to dry before setting off for the Erabenimsun camp again.

Han-Ammu was one thing. He greeted her kindly enough, and after Haj-deek explained what she'd done, said, "I now name you Erabenimsun Nerevarine, Champion of the Erabenimsun, and Protector of the People. By collapsing the entrance of the tomb of House Dagoth, you have saved us all a great deal of trouble."

He directed her then to Manirai's yurt. The others of the tribe she'd met so far had been relatively friendly, but the wise woman's face clouded on sight of her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"The shadow of evil is over you, child, that is what is wrong, and you must fight it."

"There's no evil over me. At least...no more than anyone else on Vvardenfell...I'm here to be declared Nerevarine. Not that I need it, really, because I already have the ring, but...I've guessed I should do this properly."

Haj-deek removed her glove and lifted her hand to show the ring. (Vivec had warned her to avoid this, but he'd also told her to come straight back from Tel Fyr, and she hadn't done that either...)

"Most unusual, and I will declare you Nerevarine - but please, take heed. Pray to Azura, show your faithfulness. Before it is too late."

It's already too late.

"Has--has she told you so?"

"I do not need to be told to know. I see the signs, more than I ever have before. The omens do not favor you, child, is what I mean to say."

"You--tell fortunes, then? I didn't know you wise women could see the future."

"We must be able to divine it to some degree, or we would not be wise women. Often our predictions come of spotting patterns that repeat over the years, of studying the personalities of those around us. And this you call fortune-telling! But no - sometimes visions we are granted, which we are always quick to write down."

"But you know nothing of me." Haj-deek looked to her feet. She'd changed into Morvani's silver sandals, liking instantly the high-quality yet worn-in way they felt, and the slight sheen on them was a good distraction. "Do you?"

"I have seen--" Manirai said, "I have seen you, dressed in the armor of House Indoril, skewered before Lady Azura. And for this reason I warn you - do not fight your destiny. Fill the shoes Azura has fashioned for you, walk the path she sets before you, and do not anger her needlessly, for I can only assume that is what would prompt such a thing."

Haj-deek merely nodded, refusing to lie to the woman's face. The lack of an answer concerned the wise woman, but nothing more was said on the matter. She was declared Nerevarine, and that was that.

But skewered? SKEWERED? That ugly word repeated in her head. The Indoril Armor, too...well, she'd just have to make sure never to wear the damn stuff. The ordinators didn't like it when people wore that stuff anyway, so it wasn't as if it would be hard to avoid. There were better armors to wear that wouldn't give trouble.

It was a good thing the woman didn't seem to know who her family was, or that would have made things even more difficult...might have even made her refuse to name her Nerevarine at all.

She decided to spend the night there, at the Erabenimsun camp, as they happened to have a (tiny) empty yurt, and were more than happy to show her how to set the thing up. She had a few herbs and an ash yam, and contributed a sea shanty when someone at dinner called for a song.

Despite the jovial atmosphere, the pall Manirai's warning had put over things persisted, and she went to sleep fitfully.

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

When Haj-deek opened her eyes again, she was...not sure where she was, other than inside of a cave that glowed at one end with a fire pit. Attempts to change the setting as she usually did in dreams didn't yield any results. The smallest details refused to yield to her.

So she waited.

And she heard him, before she saw him.

Who are you?

She started to say the name she had borne for fifteen years, but if he was who she thought--she answered a moment later, "My name is Sunnar."

The sound of footsteps. Haj-deek looked about, glancing first one way and then another, and saw nothing. But she blinked - and then he was there. She stumbled back, seeing for the first time the man in his entirety, the same as her mother had.

A tall dunmer, dark of hair, whose minimal clothing was all red and black - the loincloth marked with a Sixth House symbol. But it was the mask that stood out to her most - golden, impassive, completely unreadable.

She stepped back, reaching for a weapon subconsciously - and found she had none.

You do not need them here.

There was silence for a moment, and then his hands raised to her face.

So what I saw was correct, and not merely a trick of their blighted eyes. You are your mother's child.

"Y-your child," she stammered. If this was not merely a dream, perhaps he was speaking to her at a safe distance, afraid...of what, she did not know.

I fear--nothing, came the swift reply, in a tone that shook nonetheless. On my own behalf, at least. You have never been in greater danger than you are right now. You must--you must come to me.

"But the prophecies--?"

They have been dashed to bits on the rocks before, this time shall be no different. Know this - you are unsafe anywhere I or my faithful are not. The Tribunal seek your end, whatever the false god Vivec may have told you, he lies. He lies, he will do nothing but lie, and I will not lose you to his machinations.

Another pause, and a sudden stab of pain in her arm.

No... Dagoth Ur's voice choked, in a way she could never have anticipated, I will send my faithful after you. I will have you brought here, I will not let this happen AGAIN--

But from that dim-lit embrace she was dragged, from the world of dreams and into the world of the living.

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

Haj-deek gasped as she jolted awake. In the darkness of the small yurt she saw nothing at first--but then there was the glint of a lens. She felt the blade going into her shoulder, and with a shove the owner of it was forced back, without their weapon.

It was pulled out, and she cast a healing spell as she rushed forward to attack her would-be attacker, a movement which roused Sunchaser beside her.

Only once the attacker was dead and she sat tired and breathing hard, did she get the chance to check their pockets unimpeded.

There were no notes with words, but there was a symbol she could easily understand. The black hand.

Her attacker was one of the Dark Brotherhood.

[alrightbuckaroo]

Carlos: You're a miracle, TK Strand. My miracle and the greatest adventure of my life. And no matter where the journey takes us, I vow to be there be by your side

TK, who has yet to tell Carlos he wants to spend a year in Bali living in yurt with just him and Lou II: No matter where, you say?

[seabreeze2022]

It’s official, Dec. 19, 2024 we are off to the Antarctic for a once in a lifetime adventure. This is a 16 day trip on an “expedition style” cruise. Wise people book these a year in advance. We booked it 10 days out. We did buy a book on “What to expect on an Expedition Cruise.” Looked like we would be in the heart of baby penguin season. Not bad timing for last minute, eh!

Three ways to visit Antarctica. Either fly directly to the continent and stay in some yurts or something. Very expensive and little to no wildlife. Or take a ship. Two types of ships travel there. Large cruise ships with 200-500 people, which are not allowed to land any passengers anywhere. They just keep cruising by land and icebergs. The third way to see Antarctica is “Expedition style.”

Tourism is highly regulated here. No more than 100 people at a time are allowed at any site. We are ferried by large zodiacs to shore or sometimes only a zodiac cruise if a landing is too risky. In the background is our ship the Atlas World Voyager. It can hold 200 passengers with a working crew of 133.

On this trip, there were only 150 passengers. Around 60% were Chinese. Many of them ex-pats living in Canada. The majority of passengers spoke multiple languages and had at least one PHD, if not two. This sub-set of travelers have been to every corner of the world. At least three had been on Gorilla trips. Many had one or more safari trips. Several had been to the Arctic circle or photographed polar bears. The average age was much less than you would assume, maybe 45-55. I was slewing the Bell curve at 68.

This was the supposed itinerary. We actually did it in reverse order which damn near caused a passenger mutiny when they did not place a foot on their 7th continent. Many passengers prioritized the bragging rights of stepping foot on Antarctica, over seeing all the wildlife we saw.

The charter flight to Ushuaia, Argentina was around 3 hours. We were bused to a cafe in the National Park for lunch. The World Voyager had just off loaded the previous passengers and were busy reloading supplies and cleaning rooms. They have this down to an art. We were then driven to the ship, and given ID cards. The friendly staff then escorted us to our rooms where are luggage was waiting for us. As the young man we were following, started up the stairs from the fourth deck meeting area. We told him our rooms were on deck 3 below us. After a quick check he said that we had been upgraded to deck 6. What a surprise! We expected a 2’ x 3’ portal eye level with the whales and seals.

Instead we had a private balcony with a huge sliding door. The whole deck 3 was empty, we would have been the only passengers down there. Livin’ right!

After watching the Safety video in our room. We were required to bring our life jackets, that stay in the closet, to deck 4 Muster Station 1. Hoping they stay in the closet the rest of the trip. Water here is a bit chilly.

We attend the meet and greet with the ships officers and other guest. Here Nancy is talking to Capt. Terje Ulset, a Norwegian. Ships officers are mostly Portuguese. The Doctor is Romanian as is the staff nurse.

For the next 14 days it was non stop eating great food and drinking fine wines. Sometimes we endured 2 hours without some kind of a meal, snack or high tea. Seating was casual. You could eat breakfast and lunch buffets any time during a 2 hour window. But dinner was staggered 30 minutes between deck 6 passengers sitting down at 1900. Then deck 5 passengers sitting down 1930. Dinner was always a 3-5 course dinner from the changing 5 star menu.

After exiting the famous Beagle Channel we steamed two days to the Falkland Islands. During the first day we sat through a Bio Security Check. Every piece of outer clothing we might wear on any island is checked for the smallest seed. This is taken very seriously. Besides bringing in an invasive species that could destroy the environment we need to be concerned about moving any disease from one penguin colony to another. Above one of the Expedition guides John does our Bio Security check. In October of 2023 the Avian Bird flu, Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza (HPAI), was detected on South Georgia island. This has the ability to kill 95% of all the birds and seals in a colony. It probably arrived by migrating birds and not humans. Penguin colonies can be 100,000 birds with hundreds of seals mixed in. We spotted dead seals at every landing ashore. Luckily not a high percentage but still concerning.

During the open sea crossings the decks were off limits.

Deck 3, Mud Room. We each had Green Atlas Jackets, Inflatable Life Jackets and heavy boots in these receptacles. We get to keep the heavy jackets. The passengers are divided up into 25 person groups. Nancy and I are in the “Icebergs.” Each group meets on deck 4 and then brought down to the mud room in intervals.

Here we are about to board the zodiac for the first time. Our ID’s have been scanned. When we come back aboard we will step through the boot wash machine on the right. It scrubs and sprays our boots with disinfectant.

About to make our first landing at West Point Island, West Falkland Islands. This will be a “dry landing” coming along side a small pier.

Everything is done by the book. Here the head of the Expedition Team, Aaron takes Nancy’s arm in the “Sailor’s grip” to help her to shore. Aaron always meets each zodiac when they come ashore giving directions, cautions and time to return.

Above is the route we hike from the farmers residence on the east to the penguin colony on the west. Temperature is around 45 F. We end up getting very sweaty in these heavy coats. Only later do we learn there are shoulder straps on the inside of the jacket. You peal off the jacket and then it hangs off your back like a back pack. Wish we knew that earlier.

This is the German ranch manager. He lives on a sailboat in the harbor. He gets to Port Stanley once a year. Food and supplies are delivered once a month. They ranch sheep here.

We follow red flags for the trail. These are permanent, later trips temporary red flags are placed for us to wind in and out of the animals.

The Expedition guide Ana, directs Nancy to step into the disinfectant before walking down to the Albatross and Rock Hopper nesting site.

We are in over our heads in centuries old tussocks. Theis area is deep peat from the grass.

We get within a few feet of nesting Albatrosses. Several birds are constantly flying just over our heads. Interspersed between the Albatrosses sitting on foot high peat nest, are Rock Hopper Penguins with their new borns.

Albatross buzzing by.

Baby albatross being groomed by parent. Note the peat nest they make.

Rock hopper penguin with its chick dead center.

More Rock Hopper penguins.

Rolling tundra like hills. Several geese in the far side of the photo.

Back to the jetty for our ride back to the ship. We usually get to spend about 2 hours ashore. Til the next group gets their turn. We did not see any dead animals on this excursion.

Once aboard we will go through the boot scrubbing machine then have our ID’s scanned before leaving our gear in the mud room.

We will be welcomed back aboard with hot towels, warm drinks and rocking music. Anyone want a shot of Bailey’s? Nancy and Albi hamming it up with her Llama hat.

Once everyone is onboard the ship will move a few miles to our next shore excursion during our lunch break.

[kayssweetdreams]

A "Perfect" Vacation Ch 23

Meanwhile, With Dolly, Roland and Misère...

Dolly didn't feel safe sleeping in the hotel. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded her a bit too much about her time back at PPP, or Ka Lā's attitude, or Maybe it was the fact that they were invited by a woman they have never even HEARD of before. But either way, she just didn't feel safe.

Even with her dad and Misère around, she couldn't help but get the same uneasy vibes that she had around Madame Prim, whenever Ka Lā came around her. "Don't worry Dolly. Maybe we can ask Ka Lā to give us a ride back to the mainland." Roland suggested, hugging his daughter and trying to keep her calm. "I have to admit...I can't help but feel a little uneasy here too." Misère said, her eyes shifting back and forth.

"Dad. You think that the others feel the same way? After all, Yuri and Kaylo had the same 'treatment' as me..." Dolly admitted, hoping her father would understand. "I think they do. If you don't feel comfortable, we can leave. After all. It's not like this is the school again." Roland said, rubbing his daughter's back, trying to keep her calm. "How about this: We find Ka Lā and ask her for a ride back to the mainland in the morning." He suggested. Dolly, while happy that her father acknowledged her fear, was also nervous about staying on the island for one more day.

"Don't worry Dolly, Everything will be OK." Roland said as he got comfortable in the tent he set up. No matter how much Ka Lā insisted, Roland refused to stay inside one of the room, instead, he brought a portable tent (a YURT. As he says) and set it directly in the forest, Claimed that it felt more like home. Dolly also had her own tent, but for some odd reason, she lost hers after one night. "Ok...Good night Dad." Misère said, making herself comfortable on a nearby hammock "Good thing that it's a warm night tonight." She said to herself as she closed her eyes.

However, the next time Dolly opened her eyes, she saw that she, her dad, and Misère were strapped down to 3 metal tables. Panicking, Dolly began shouting for them to wake up "Dad! Dad wake up! Misère! Get up!" She yelled. Unfortunately, her words were in vain, the two adults were knocked out. Struggling, Dolly attempted to wiggle out of her restaints, but to no avail. "Oh I wouldn't bother if I were you." A scarily familiar voice said. Dolly tensed up. She knew that voice ANYWHERE...and she didn't want to.

"M-MOM?!" She screamed in terror, watching as Ka Lā stepped out of the shadows. Dolly's breathing grew erratic. "K-KA LĀ?! BUT-HOW-BUT-YOU'RE" the girl sputtered, panicking as she saw the woman getting closer. "Now Dolly dear...it's improper for a girl to stutter." 'Ka Lā' said, making Dolly thrash and panic even more as she was now standing directly above her. "BUT HOW?! THE POLICE ARRESTED YOU!!" Dolly yelled, unable to fathom how her perfection obsessed mother was HERE. Although she was JUST arrested on the news. "Oh Dolly. You know that the quest for perfection never rests." Prim said, in a almost mocking voice.

"W-What do you want? I live with dad now and your school is destroyed. I have nothing you could want." Dolly said with as much bravery as she could in her voice. As much as she was terrified to see Prim again, she would NOT let her have the upper hand, and Fear her. Prim's eyes narrowed "Ah yes. Your stupid flower-loving, Tree-hugging hippie of a father has completely warped your mind. And my school is now in shambles, thanks to that bug loving brat, and her pink haired demonic friend. But don't worry...Mother is going to fix it all once more. Along with your new sisters." She said in a strangely calm voice.

Dolly grew confused. "Huh? What sisters? I'm an only child." She said. "Not anymore you're not. You and you're going to be a PERFECT role model." Prim said, her perfection crazed smile shining as she stood back...and revealed Yuri and Kaylo, everything that made them special gone, their eyes duller than a dull blade. The two of them gazed at Dolly and Prim with emotionless smiles.

"Good Day Dolly. Hello Mother..."

[irithnova]

Things Manchuria did during the Qing to unintentionally troll Mongolia:

Nomad LARP (even to this day)

"Mr Mongolia us #nomads need to stick together :3"

"...kys"

"Copy" Mongolia's traditional clothes

Based his own script on the Mongol script

"I can't believe Manchuria is using MY script...

"...Mongolia isn't your script originally based on the Uyghur script?"

Another case of nomad larping, used an "imperial yurt" for high profile events but this mf has never lived in a yurt/tent in his life

Literally went around wearing glasses with no lenses in them (didn't need them) just so he could look more similar to Mongolia

Was like "Mr Mongolia I'm also a patron of the arts, just like you were!" and shoves a painting covered in Emperor Qianlong red stamps in his face

Mongolia being mad that some new upstart is bossing him around and not seeing the sheer irony in that

"I can't believe this kid thinks he's a legitimate Empire!"

China's honest reaction knowing that everyone was saying the same about Mongolia a couple hundred years ago: ._.

Manchuria claiming common ancestry with Mongolia (other than unironically calling Mongolia his father)

Again, Mongolia not seeing the irony in him being mad at this when he encouraged Ilkhanate to do the same with Persia

Oh yeah Manchuria claiming Mongolia is his father

"Mr Mongolia... If I was alive back then (Mongol conquest era) I TOTALLY would have been your ally :3"

Mongolia, remembering the Jurchens (ancestors of Manchus): "....No the fuck you wouldn't have"

Mongolia going around claiming Manchuria has no culture of his own because all he does is "copy" and then getting mad when it's pointed out to him that everyone used to call him uncultured too

"OK but you guys were saying that because you were butthurt. I'm saying it because I'm right"

Mongolia... Getting mad that Manchuria wasn't collecting tribute from him correctly???

"You obviously have no idea what you're doing because this is NOT tribute if you're giving me something of equal value in return"

"...Mongolia I don't think this is something you should be mad about-"

"All I'm saying is that you're incompetent"

Some notes:

-Manchurians are a sedentary people, not nomadic

-The Manchus based their script off of the Mongol script

-The Mongol script was developed from the Uyghur script during the 13th century

-The patron of the arts part: The Mongols were very excited about art and yes they did patron a lot of art/ artists. Emperor Qianlong, who I am referring to, was a Qing emperor who was a bit... Enthusiastic to say the least. Whilst in Chinese culture, the way in which one engages with art is more interactive, Qianlong took it a bit far and stamped his seal all over quite a few paintings.

-The "Mongolia encouraged Ilkhanate to do the same" Ilkhanate was a subdivision of the Mongol Empire and essentially one of Mongolia's sons. The Ilkhanate ruled over Persia and yes, Ilkhanid rulers would try to claim common ancestry with Persians through the Sasanids to make themselves somewhat more likeable. What's funny is Manchuria isn't completely wrong for claiming common ancestry with Mongolia - most likely through the Donghu.

-The Jurchen are ancestors to Manchuria. Mongolia warred with the Jurchens of the Jin dynasty during his conquest era.

-Yeah the Mongols were called uncultured a lot during their hey-day

-Yes, the Manchus would give Mongol Lords, Dukes etc something of equal value when they'd pay tribute

[changelingsandothernonsense]

I got some questions for Josh, Erra and Sydari! (also if you wonder why there's a refollow, I misclicked the ask button >.<) 📓, 💙, 🔅

Hii! Lol it's okay, i've done it on accident often enough that I think it's just a rite of passage at this point with trying to navigate this hellsite XD

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

I associate Erra a lot with the in-game poem "May I Shrink to Dust."

I will not pray for that which I've lost

When my heart springs forth

From your soil, like a seed,

And blossoms anew beneath tomorrow's sun.

For Josh, I'm going with this verse from Across the Night because I'm still on my Silverchair kick.

Never seen the sun shine

From higher points than sunrise

I don't want to be lonely

Never seen the sun shine

From higher points than sunrise

I don't want to be lonely

I just want to be alone

For Sydari it's this verse from Dreams by The Cranberries

And now I tell you openly

You have my heart, so don't hurt me

You're what I couldn't find

Totally amazing mind

So understanding and so kind

You're everything to me

💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?

Erra’s room, or his yurt if he's travelling, tends towards practical decoration. For him, that means your usual furniture, though the bed in his bedroom at his home in Maar Gan is bigger and softer than what he's used to. Erra can sleep on anything, so long as his neck is supported. So the softness is for Joshi's comfort, and he couldn’t say no to the canopy. He favours lacquered wood and thick woven silk carpets that you can hang either on the walls or rest on the floor, and he hangs amulets from the bedframe to ward off the Sharmat.

He likes having a lot of pillows if he's staying anywhere for an extended period because he needs different ones depending on the way he's feeling. He generally likes to keep his room ordered, and that means everything has a box to go in... Then Josh moved in, and now his stuff is on the floor all the time.

Josh, as I implied above is fairly messy. Though he calls it "organise chaos". He knows where everything is so don't move that gear to a shelf or he'll never find it again. Josh fills his space with books on Dwemer theory, Dunmeri history, tomes about the natural world, and fiction about pirates and the odd romance that he’d never admit to reading 20 times.

He takes a lot of cues from Erra in terms of pillows and amulets and he prefers a softer bed. It's something he's a stickler for after sleeping on a straw mat for most of his youth. He's usually got some sort of project sitting next to him as he nods off unless he's sharing. Then he's been known to fall asleep at his desk. He likes to hang weapons on his wall. It's a way to admire his collection after all. He insists on mounting his old wakizashi above his bed no matter where he's living. He believes it'll bring him luck and don't ever tell anyone he puts stock in that.

Sydari needs greenery in her room and has a lot of pot plants decorating her space. It stops a place looking dreary in her opinion. She tends to keep her room fairly tidy though not to the extent that Erra does. She's mostly concerned about the three safes in her room and keeping her valuables locked in there. Outside of that so long as no one leaves food in there she's fine with a few things left out. She likes a big bed that she can sprawl out on after a long day and she prefers something softer. She likes to decorate her room with interesting things she's liberated that aren't necessarily valuable monetarily.

🔅 - How does this oc deal with physical pain?

All three deal with pain fairly well and deal with chronic pain. Though Josh really takes the cake with what he can push through.

Erra has a whole routine he goes through to lessen the impact of his migraines and knows he usually will need assistance to stay hydrated. He tends to ask for help quite readily. It's impractical in his eyes to push through an injury. Why make things worse?

Sydari suffers from painful periods, particularly after an abdominal injury. She tends to seclude herself when she's going through it. What else can she do really except wait for it to pass and down pain relief.

Josh starts suffering from chronic joint and muscle pain as well as constant aches and discomfort from his scarring after surviving Corprus. This all gets exacerbated by his badly healed pelvis which freezes if he's overdone it or just gets too cold and a second severe break to his leg. Josh also gets the odd seizure after getting hit by both Corprus and Nerevar's Revenge Tulpa's wild meld ride that can leave him exhausted for days.

After 200 years of it, he tends not to really notice if he's been injured unless it's serious and half the time he can't tell what serious us so he'll wander around with sprains and just think he's having a bad day. He also needs to use crutches or a cane from time to time and creates himself a frame to support his weaker leg so he can keep fighting.

If he sees someone he cares about in pain, he turns into a helicopter. He might be able to walk it off (he can't and will end up having to use his cane) he doesn't expect that from others.

[domesticatedanimal]

FFXIVWrite2024

Prompt 25: Perpetuity

Implied sexual content. Dawntrail Spoilers

At Dusk

“Do you ever miss it?” Sif asked, breaking a long silence. “Living like the Shetona, I mean.”

“I do.” Erenville seemed to consider something. Sif had learned to recognize the look he had while he was turning something over in his head. “Not all of it. And not all of the time, but when we’re out here, so close to home… I do.”

Sif followed his gaze. The pair were sat on the top of a dry hillock, trying to make camp on some borrowed ragged carpets. A great valley of golden grass stretched out beneath them, pockmarked with Shetona yurts and cabins. A dozen thin strings of campfire smoke rose up into the sky, each surrounded by a tiny cluster of life.

If she was honest with herself, Sif wasn’t entirely sure why they were still traveling, or where they were trying to go. Any semblance of a “northern tour” had run out of steam weeks ago. Now they just wandered, following streams until they ran into the foothills of jagged mountains unlike anything she had ever seen. Sometimes they would join up with migrating locals for a few days. Usually they were alone. At first, they shared stories to pass the time. Erenville held a surprising library of close calls and exotic adventures behind his mild demeanor.

But now they rode in silence, taking in the sounds of the plains. Wind sweeping down from the mountains to rustle the tall unkempt grasses. Giant hawks that would swoop down to inspect them, kicking up dust and letting out cries that made your ears ring. The energetic crackle of ceruleum burning in the distant cenotes that covered the wilderness with hundreds of tiny blue sparkles every night. On days when the ride had been easy, they would end the night mating, reveling in the open emptiness of it all. Wearing nothing but the moonlight on their skin, staring up into the impossible blanket of sky that stretched out forever, in every direction.

There was something they found in those moments that neither could really explain. It wasn’t boredom, nor stress, that they were seeking release from. Sif sometimes thought it was the air. The breeze was thick with the smell of grass and untrod soil, and it seemed to awaken some bestial craving in the pit of her stomach. Whatever it was, she found herself loving it. Erenville’s was the first male touch she had known, and that newness was intoxicating.

That day had been quiet and calm. A leisurely ride down an old hunting trail that the native Shetona kept clear and wide to make their valley more welcoming to outside trade. The sun was sitting on the horizon like a fat drop of honey. Sif was nearing the bottom of a waterskin she had filled with cheap and cloudy red wine bought from a farm they passed that morning. Her head swam deliciously in the alcohol, and she ached a bit, thinking of what would come later that night.

“How would you describe us?” Erenville asked suddenly.

The question hung in the air between them. Sif hoped it would just float away on the breeze.

“What do you mean?”

Erenville sighed. He knew she was deflecting. “I know what we are both like. I know that you are not planning on settling down somewhere and hanging up your swords. I do not necessarily want that either. But I need to know what your expectations are. I do not wish to give you false impressions.”

It was Sif’s turn to sigh. “Does it need to be so complicated?”

“No. But it cannot be nothing. We can stay out here for months, for years. But there is still a world out there, and we have a place in it. I need to know where we still stand when we get there.”

“I don’t know,” she exhaled, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t..?”

“I don’t know!” She felt tears in her eyes, and she hated herself for it. “I don’t know what happens after this. I don’t care what happens. Can’t we just take this for what it is? Damn it all! Just once, I want this to be easy. I don’t want to think about what could happen. I don’t want to think about the rest of the world.”

She jammed her palms into her eyes, feeling humiliated at the loss of control. “The rest of the world can burn for all I care. Fuck! Don’t I deserve to be a little selfish, for once? Don’t ruin this. Please, don’t ruin this.”

“All right.” His voice was calm. No hurt. No disappointment. “As long as we are out here, as long as this lasts, there is no ‘next.’ Only now.”

“Is that OK?”

“That is OK.”

Sif scooted across the threadbare carpet and leaned into him. Erenville held her, and let her cry out the rest of the tears. He didn’t know how many years of frustration were bubbling up, but he knew enough to let it happen. He spoke gently, describing what was probably happening among all of those tiny campfires in the valley. Making up little fantasies for each of the families, and creating simple dramas she could laugh at.

Despite Sif’s wishes, something changed between them. It had to. Erenville had asked the question, and brought complication into their little escape. When they came to each other, after sunset, the joy was still there, but the movements were different. The carnal and animalistic lust had given way to a hedonistic comfort.

He would always regret asking, but needed to be sure. In the end, they were both just running away. And neither wanted to confront what it was they were running from.