#i read french BUT NOT FRENCH LIKE THIS!!!

[talktomeinclexa]

As someone who has subtitled shows and movies for Netflix, Disney+, and a few other streaming platforms, I find this doubtful for two reasons :

The maximum number of characters per minute a person can read. Per Netxlif rule, it's :

Adult programs: Up to 20 characters per second

Children’s programs: Up to 17 characters per second

Although I've often seen it stretched to 32 or 33 CPM for other platforms for adults.

2. The maximum number of characters allowed per line: 42

Simply put, unless your characters speak slowly and you have plenty of time between lines of dialog, it's impossible to transcribe EVERYTHING as it is said. Subtitlers have to shorten/simply things due to those constraints.

That doesn't mean there shouldn't be consistency, though. There are guidelines provided by the clients, you can find the Netflix one here for American English : https://partnerhelp.netflixstudios.com/hc/en-us/articles/217350977-English-USA-Timed-Text-Style-Guide

Secondly, there's a difference between Subtitles, which are primarily meant for non-native speakers, and Closed Captions or CC which cater to hard-of-hearing viewers.

The former translates the dialog into a foreign language. Cultural names are usually translated (e.g. Santa Claus = le Père Noël in French), and only what is spoken is subtitled. The rules are more flexible.

CC, on the other hand, are more complete. The best I could find regarding the ADA rule is that "Closed captions should account for all spoken dialog and should also reflect non-speech information, such as meaningful sounds and sound effects." and also in the Netflix guidelines "Do not simplify or water down the original dialogue". That doesn't mean that the CC have to 100% match what is said (again, reading limits), but everything said should appear, and it's not the subtitler's job to censure things.

Finally, regarding the inconsistency and sometimes poor quality in subtitling, you have platforms like Netflix to blame. Subtitlers used to be trained translators specialized in that field, paid per subtitle. Now, Netflix and co hire third-party companies with online platforms that pay less qualified people outrageously low rates (per minute on screen and not subtitles anymore) with tight deadlines. You get what you pay for.

netflix subtitles are great for when you want to read a caption with like 50% resemblance to what's being spoken

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

Guns N’ Roses Fic: You Don’t Know How This Works

Summary: One morning Howard telephones Axl to interview him and to secretly get under his skin by flirting with his girlfriend, Roxanne. Little does Howard know that Axl has other mischievous plans up his sleeve.

Characters: Axl Rose, OC: Roxanne, and Howard Stern.

Pairing(s): Axl Rose/original female character, Axl Rose/female reader, Axl Rose/Roxanne, Howard Stern/Roxanne.

Rating: Explicit, 21+

Word Count: 2,357

Warnings: Howard is a creep, humiliation, drug use, mentions of bondage, vaginal fingering, forced climax, and oral sex.

A/N: This fic is inspired by Howard Stern’s 1990 interview between Axl Rose and Sebastian Bach. Parts of the interview have been altered to fit this story’s plot. In the fic, Roxanne is semi based off of Erin Everly. Link to video => here

Everything inside the condo was quiet. Morning light seeped into the bedroom, casting a golden glow on both the wrinkled white bedsheets and Axl Rose's sleeping form, while his head was buried underneath a layer of pillows. It was peaceful. Until suddenly, on the nightstand, the telephone began to ring. The obnoxious sound reverberated off the walls. Axl stayed in bed, somewhat blocking out the noise with his pillows.

He had stayed up all night partying with his friends, drinking vast amounts of hard liquor, injecting himself with heroine, and French kissing his beloved sweetheart, Roxanne aka Roxi. His body felt wrecked and his mind harbored a horrible migraine. The ringing only made his problems worse.

Axl groaned awake, picking up the receiver, a hint of grogginess in his tone. "Hello?" Axl's eyes caught a glimpse of the clock - 9:15 a.m. Who the fuck was calling this early?

"Hey, Axl, it's me - Howard Stern. How the hell are you? What have you been up to?"

Axl's peripheral vision was somewhat blurred and his mind was not registering the bombardment of questions Howard threw at him. He sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face, hoping his mind would clear up. Unfortunately, for the migraine, it still knocked on his frontal lobe like Heaven's Door. "Wh-what?"

"Come on, man. Don't dodge the question. Tell me about your life. What's been happening? Are you still banging chicks? Writing any new songs? You still partying like a wild animal?" Howard always pried each of his guests on air and wanted to know everything about their life. It didn't matter if it was his business or not, Howard made it his business.

"Yeah, man. Sure."

The answer was vague and Howard knew it. He needed to try a new tactic, go slow, take each question at a time, and then he'd get the answers he was searching for, including some dirt as a bonus. In the end, the turtle won, not the hare. "You sound tired. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Axl lied. "Just laying in bed, reading some magazines."

"Yeah? Any hot chicks on those covers?"

"Not a chance.” He cleared his throat. “They're Rolling Stone articles."

"Oh, business replaced pleasure this morning?"

"If they didn't shred me in the papers it'd be the opposite."

"What kind of shredding?"

"How I don't live an honest life. That kind of bullshit." It was true. The media did try to distort his public image by twisting the facts and cranking out lies about his personal life and incidents that have occurred on tour.

"I hear ya, man. Critics can fuck you right in the ass. It's their job. They wanna fuck every celebrity they can find, including me. I'd rather they sucked my dick. Like in your song, Out Ta Get Me."

Axl snorted. "It's one thing we have in common." His eyes wandered to the other side of the bed, noticing the empty space. Where was his baby girl? Was she in the kitchen brewing some coffee? Making breakfast? Outside of the bedroom, he didn't hear the clinking of dishes to confirm his suspicions, or the aroma of coffee grains. “Roxanne?" Axl called, unaware that Howard was still on the other line.

"Oh, is she there?" Excitement crept into Howard's voice.

Axl grunted. "Yeah, man, she's here..."

"What's she doing right now?"

He shrugged. Why was Howard interested in his girl? It seemed strange…odd. "Hell if I knew. She disappeared on me."

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound so promising," Howard mused. "Is she fucking one of your boys?"

Axl eyed the door. "Nah, man. She's loyal." Or at least he hoped she was. She wouldn't wander out of the condo to fuck one of his band members. If that was the case, he'd tie her down on the bed and remind her who she belonged to. It wasn't the first time that happened and it wouldn't be the last.

"Doesn't sound loyal," Howard commented. "Tell me something: does she have big tits?"

The question took him off guard but Axl tried to remain unfazed. Instead, he chuckled, picturing her voluminous globes and perked nipples. "Why? You jealous?"

"No, no. All I'm saying is," Howard corrected himself, "you're lucky for finding chicks with great racks. It's a rare find these days."

"A lot of 'em are fake, but she's a natural."

Howard paused, listening intently. He heard many rumors about Axl over the years, particularly about his temper. Howard was purposely trying to get a rise out of him and see if he would blow up over the line in front of Howard's daily listeners. He just needed to push each button a little more...

Axl continued, "You can squeeze 'em and all sorts of sounds come outta her like a chew toy."

"You suck her tits too?"

"Lick, bite, suck," he elaborated. "Look, it doesn't matter. She creams for me. End of story."

Around the corner, Axl heard the front door unlatch, creek open, and close. Roxanne must've arrived home.

“Axl?"

"In here, baby."

Roxi walked into the doorway of their bedroom, holding two coffees and dangling a plastic bag, with a bagel logo on it, around her forearm.

Axl sighed with relief. She didn't wake up early to cheat on him. She went out of her way to buy them both breakfast from their favorite bakery across the street.

Roxi held up his beverage, whispering, “Black coffee with extra milk for my King."

Howard interrupted the precious moment with his chattering demands. "Lemme speak to her." If Axl denied his wishes, he wouldn't hear the endless complaints from Howard for the rest of the interview, and Axl was already running low on patience this morning. "Babe, come here. Howard wants to talk to you." Axl motioned for her to step closer.

Roxanne walked in, handing him his coffee, and setting the bag on the nightstand. She grabbed the phone, pressing it against her ear while her index finger snaked around the cord, twirling it. It was a nervous habit. She never spoke to a famous person before, let alone Howard Stern. "Hello?"

"Is this Roxi?" Howard questioned, wanting confirmation.

"Yes."

Her voice was music to his ears. She sounded sweet like licorice, seemed childish like a doll, and innocent like Bambi. He could tell her very essence encapsulated an aura that could only be found within his childhood but was buried underneath life's hellish experiences, stripping away such purity. "You sound very beautiful," Howard complimented.

Roxi blushed, twirling her finger around the cord until her blood circulation came to a halt. "Thank you."

"What are you wearing?"

She looked down at her attire. "I'm wearing a dress."

"What kind of dress? Is it short?"

"No, its long. A long black dress. Nothing fancy."

"I see. I bet it's accentuating your curves, am I right?"

Roxi blushed again, harder this time, and held the phone against her ear tighter, hoping to block out Howard's voice in case Axl overheard him. She knew how jealous and overprotective Axl got, especially towards playful banter. "Thanks. Uhm...it's stylish, yeah."

Howard sensed her uneasiness. It was time to go straight for the kill. "Right. So, tell me, have you and Axl been making love every night?"

Roxanne turned to look at Axl. "Why are you asking me these questions…?" She asked, laughing nervously. Axl caught on and knew Howard was acting unprofessional. He took the phone away from her, sitting her down on his lap. "Howard," Axl said, wrapping an arm around Roxi's waist to keep her glued to his side.

"What, man? I'm just curious. I need to know the details. Is she a good lay?"

"Best lay you'll never have." Axl squeezed Roxi's hip. "She's mine. Nobody can have her."

"Nobody can have her yet she has everybody." Howard shot back.

Axl tried to keep himself composed. "Nah, man. You don't know how this works." He took Roxi's coffee out of her hand and placed it on the nightstand. He cradled the phone with his shoulder, using one of his hands to hold Roxi in place while his other hand sneaked underneath her dress, diving into her panties. She jolted at the sensation, wide-eyed, cupping her mouth shut with both hands.

Why was he displaying his dominance now?! She wondered.

"How what works?"

"This." Axl slid a finger into Roxanne's pussy, making her gasp. He could feel her velvet walls clench around his digit.

"How does it work?" Howard persisted.

"Only I know how it works." Axl slid in another finger, hooking them inside her. Roxi moaned into her palms and arched her back. "I intend to keep it that way." She didn't notice but Axl's eyes turned a shade darker as his dominant, protective side took over.

"Aww, I can't be part of your little club?" Howard found this whole interaction amusing and was oblivious to what was actually occurring.

"Nope. Just me." Axl withdrew both fingers, sliding them along her slit until he found her clit, stroking it. Roxi whined, leaning herself further onto his chest.

"I see. Only the cool kids get to join, huh?"

Axl nodded, stroking her clit a little harder.

Howard shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's alright. I'm not missing much."

Roxi came. Axl swiped his fingers along her cunt, coating them in her warm, fresh juices. “Not a damn thing." He confirmed, sucking away her slick. She was the most delicious thing he ever tasted. She was far superior than any meal Howard would never graze upon in his lifetime.

Roxanne's body went limp against Axl as she tried to catch her breath from the quick yet intense orgasm. She could feel his hardened erection poke into her ass at the seam of his pants. Now it was his turn to get a release.

Lying back on the bed, Axl repositioned Roxi to straddle his waist. She inched her body downwards and undid the leather belt-buckle on his jeans. Next, she used her teeth to unzip the fly of his jeans, tasting a hint of copper on her tongue. Her fingers dug in to free his throbbing manhood that was already leaking precum. In the room, a cool breeze wafted over his cock, helping it grow a few inches.

"So, Axl, tell me, will there be any covers on this album?"

Axl wanted to forget Howard was on the phone. He wanted to forget this interview was even happening and, instead, focus on the pure, erotic bliss Roxanne was gonna provide him. Axl wished he could smash the phone and never hear Howard's annoying voice again. But he couldn't. He needed the recognition. He needed the world - his fans - to hear about his upcoming album. And most of all...he needed a damn good blowjob.

Roxanne suctioned her lips around the base of his cock, diving head down to engulf his shaft in her throat. Axl cursed under his breath and used his free hand to guide Roxi's head, setting the pace.

"It's uhm...it's coming. We recorded Live And Let Die a few months ago."

"Oh yeah? The James Bond hit? I can foresee you guys executing that."

"Yeah, it's been really great." Axl looked down and saw Roxi's head bob up and down, causing her cheeks to hollow out, sharpening the contrast on her cheekbones. It was a lovely sight to behold. He bit back a few moans, cursing under his breath again. He didn't want Howard to know or suspect an inkling about this situation.

Reaching his hand out, Axl caressed Roxi's dark locks and petted her head, a notion that indicated she was being a good girl for making him feel grounded and satisfied.

"I heard a rumor Steven left the band-"

"He didn't leave. He got fired." Before Howard could ask why, Axl responded, “couldn't leave his drugs, couldn't leave her..." He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Roxanne was more addicting than heroine. Every time he got a piece of her, or she got a piece of him, he craved her insatiably. He could spend all day drinking her sweet nectar until the pipe ran dry. But he would want to come back for more, as if his thirst never got quenched during the first round.

"Mrs. Brownstone," Howard joked.

Axl laughed. "Yeah, yeah. We should've named it that." He could feel his climax approaching like a freightrain. He bucked his hips upwards, causing Roxi to gag a little. She recovered and only sucked him off faster.

"I'm guessing the rest of the album is gonna be a big surprise then?"

Axl grunted and felt his hot seed spurt out of his length into Roxi's milking hole. "Uh huh. Top secret. Classified."

Roxanne pulled her lips away with a popping sound, not loud enough for Howard to notice.

Howard understood and decided it was time to wrap the interview. He knew Axl wouldn't tell him anymore details and it'd be a waste of time to try and coax it out of him. The two men had enough fun for one day. Maybe next time he’ll try again. “Alright, man. Hey, listen, it was great talking to you and I hope we can do this again sometime."

Axl rolled his eyes, trying his best to fake a genuine impression through gritted teeth. "Yeah, man. Sounds great."

"Tell Roxi I hope to see her again soon."

"She won't be here the next time you call."

Howard paused. Did this manic rockstar catch a glimpse of the future just now? “Really? How can you be so sure?" He queried.

"Because...I just know." After announcing his final words, Axl hung up the phone, and turned his attention towards his lover. "Thank you, baby. You did good."

Roxanne sat on her haunches, staring at her King. "Why won't I be able to talk to Howard again?" She asked curiously. She didn't mind not speaking to him, the interview was awkward enough for her. She hated how Howard put her on the spot in front of millions of listeners. But she also wanted to know the reasoning behind it. If her was willing to tell her.

Axl hummed, using his thumb to swipe a droplet of cum from her lower lip. "Because…that's not how it works."

Taglist:

Side-note: if anybody else wants to be added on my taglist for certain eras/characters, let me know!

[jean-meowreau]

Ohhh maybe something jerejean for jeans birthday???? - @sirfatcat-mccatterson

Jeremy quietly clears his throat.

Jean grimaces and peeks open a single eye, directing all of his nastiness at Jeremy with one gray eye bursting with malice. "Quoi, Jérémy?" he asks, voice raspy with sleep. He shifts beneath his blanket onto his side, shivering and tucking the material up to his chin when it falls and exposes his chest.

He watches the blond nervously bite at his lip and shift on his feet. He sighs, and Jean closes his eyes to fall back asleep, when he hears, "Joyeaux Anniversaire," in shoddy French.

This time both eyes fly open to glare daggers at Jeremy. "Did you tell the others?"

"No. I know how you value your privacy," Jeremy says quietly, suddenly looking unsure of himself.

He sits up, wrapping the blanket tight around himself, before scowling as he asks, "How did you know? Was it Kevin?"

Jeremy shakes his head no. Jean perks his brow, prompting an answer.

"You remember that last weekend I went back to visit my family?"

"Yes," Jean grimaces. "You were very sad and quiet when you came back. It was annoying. I like your smile." Jeremy lights up at the words and Jean's scowl deepens. "Do not read into that."

"I'm illiterate!" Jeremy says quickly, and maybe a little too loud. He covers his mouth with his own hand on Jean's behalf.

"Why is your family important to this story?"

Jeremy shuffles around on his feet for a few seconds before quietly saying, "I have a trust fund."

"Okay?"

"And I am allowed to use my money however I want."

"Jeremy, you did not buy me something stupid, did you?"

"Well, I was going to buy you a car, and then as I was looking into transferring the title I found out you have a conservatorship and and anything I tried to give you would be automatically given to--"

"Do not say a name," Jean mutters. His voice is flat. He already knows. He does not wish to hear it aloud.

"So, I..." Jeremy shifts his weight between his feet a few more times before producing a file folder he'd been holding behind his back. He crosses the room and holds it out to Jean, who takes it while still glaring him down. "I bought... you."

Jean's face pales. He stares at the blank front of the manila folder, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind at once. He swallows thickly, fingers trembling as he picks at the edges of the folder. "You own me, now," he says quietly. Kevin said Jeremy was supposed to be good people. Maybe they had different definitions of what that meant.

"What? No, wait--" Jeremy laughs awkwardly. "Nobody owns you. I paid off your family's debt and you're a free man."

Jean furrows his brow, staring hard at the folder in his hands. "What is this?"

"Your medical history, birth certificate, and the deeds to some property in France and some property in West Virginia."

Jean frowns, picking at the corner of the folder. "Did they mention someone named Elodie?" he asks quietly.

"They said that's who the property is from. It's uhm-- it was a death transfer," Jeremy whispers.

Jean nods, staring still at the blank vaguely yellow paper holding every notation of his entire life up to this point. "I should thank you, shouldn't I?" he asks quietly.

Jeremy drops to his knees in front of where Jean is sitting at the edge of his bed, warm hands settling against his thighs right before his knees. "I don't want your gratitude. It's everything you deserve just to be yourself and live your life."

"Jeremy--"

"No. Your present will come later today. This just happened to be delivered this morning. Finish sleeping in and meet us downstairs for some protein pancakes and then we will go to the gym. Just you and me."

Jean nods shakily. "Can you ask if Cat will let me ride her bike?"

"You should ask her. She has something for you."

Jean narrows his eyes at Jeremy's smile. "You said you didn't tell anyone."

"I may be a liar. But it's only them - how else could I float a random pancake breakfast for you?"

"You're on thin ice," Jean mumbles. He reaches for the hem of Jeremy's shirt before he can leave the room, unable to make eye contact. But he tugs at the material twice before looking from the blond to the folder in his lap.

Jeremy smiles, taking the gratitude for what it was, before brushing his knuckles against Jean's cheekbone. "Anything for you." He doesn't tell Jean how pretty he looks flustered this way, much as he wants to. He instead leaves the room silently once he is released, smiling invitingly at Jean before he shuts the door.

[writingindarkness]

French guy here, but recently I read an article by a French journalist who spent six months in the Apalachians hanging out with Trump supporters and getting to know them. That article was eye opening (and not merely about your folks but about mine as well, cause I suspect those mechanisms are very similar to what's happening in Europe, on a different scale). Most of the people she talked to were genuinely nice people, one of the guys she did a portrait of was a social worker helping drug addicts to get sober, recover and rehabilitate, an other was a vet who claimed he was actually proud of queer kids getting to be themselves cause in his head "I fought over there so they could be free to be who they are over here". They weren't the hateful monsters mass media like to show us to, I suspect, keep us fighting between ourselves. They were regular people with loved ones, spouses, young children they need to feed, but mostly what they had in common was that they lived in miserable conditions, had been living in miserable conditions their whole lives, often their parents, their grand-parents etc. had lived in the same miserable conditions, and government after government had failed to improve anything for them and their community, so they got desperate and voted for the guy most of them actually do see for the asshole he is, but the only one whom campaign actually reached them with promises they feel might help (and zero skill to be able to see them for the lies they are).

Meanwhile, for our last legislative elections, the leftists, ex-teachers parents of a friend, who live in a very poor suburb of Paris and volunteer to tutor children there, gathered their small community of intellectuals around and basically went door to door for days chatting with folks and explaining the left's program to them, and ended up turning left an entire area that had been voting right wing for years.

So basically tldr our ennemies are fewer than we believe and our potential allies closer to joining us than we know. Acknowledging this is step 1. Reaching out your hand is step 2.

Young people have GOT to stop talking about conservatives like they're scary menacing monsters. Yes the policies they back are horrifically destructive but that's entirely because of how individually stupid, fearful, emotionally stunted, weak willed and catastrophically gullible they are. That all is what made them become right wing to begin with. Just the most easily manipulated zombie sheep on earth.

[thewhitewitch-bitch]

In Astris Supra (Chapter 5: Circulus Insutus Fato, Portas Abditas Resera)

Agatha Harkness x F!OC

Read it on AO3

October 1710

There is no amount or combination of words sufficient enough to capture the true horror of war. Even those who avoid the front face of conflict are subject to the cruelty and tragedy that befalls men at arms. There is heartbreak, sorrow, and a pain so immense that it blankets the battlefield and all that surrounds it like a straitjacket, constricting everything until it chokes both sides of the conflict and creates suffering. 

I had not truly known suffering like that. Not even when I left Salem behind in pursuit of a nobler calling, one that would hopefully allow me to one day return to Agatha Harkness and offer her a solution. At the time, I could only assume that she had remained in Salem, carving out her own place in the town and wreaking havoc on those who dared to get in her way. From what I could gather, based on the cries of newsboys from Boston to Philadelphia, the Witch Trials had come to an end, the town nearly destroyed by their own paranoia. It made me wonder just how much influence Agatha had gained in just a few short months, made me try to recall if I could have had the opportunity to see the signs of her inevitable descent into power mongering. 

But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to think that she had done so willingly. The love that I had for her remained, despite my best efforts to suppress it. At night, I dreamed of the days we spent together, when there was no barrier between us, no coven driving a wedge between her and her potential for good. Those memories would bring on what ifs that were as blissful as the feeling of her touch on my skin. What if we had left Salem before her mother had found us out? What if I had told her of my love for her before it was too late? What if we could have been happy simply being together, with no magic to get in the way?

"Lots on your mind this morning, eh, Ms. Stuart?" 

My thoughts were abruptly cut off by the voice of the man I was traveling with. Looking over at him from the back of my horse, I smiled wistfully and nodded. Dr. Rupert Kingsley was a rather handsome and kind young man, who came straight off the boat from London proper, with wide, dark eyes and light brown hair the shade of molten bronze. Had my interests been aligned with his, I likely would have married him as soon as the opportunity presented itself, but he was well aware that our paths were parallel to each other, never meant to cross but rather to guide each other to the right destination. So, as a talented young physician, with no ward or servant, he accepted me as an unofficial student and permitted me to travel with him as he moved from Boston northward along the coast of the colonies and into the wilds of French-controlled Acadia. 

"There's always a lot on my mind, Dr. Kingsley. Today though, the thoughts are just a tad bit louder than usual." I replied, tightening the grip on my reins. My gaze fell from the doctor to my hands, buried in the black mane of my mare.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Rupert said solemnly, "But I'm afraid you're going to have to silence them. There's no place for loud thoughts on the battlefield. If you want to be a doctor, and I know you do, you have to calm your mind and senses. Leave no room for distractions, they only lead to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death." 

"Of course."

We did not speak again after that, instead allowing the silence to be filled by the beat of our horses' hooves beneath us as we urged them forward to a lively trot and continued on the path northward. It had been a week since we had crossed into Acadia, and with Lieutenant-General Nelson on the move with nearly 2,000 men intent on laying siege to the French at Port Royal, we had little time for dawdling.

The troops were meant to make landfall at their destination any day now, a cohort of doctors and their associates not far behind. From there, it was simply the task of removing the French, an objective that had proven surprisingly difficult for the British forces as of late. But the British were unwilling to cave, which was why Dr. Kingsley thought it the perfect opportunity to 'break me in' to the world of mortal medicine. I was thankful that he remained blissfully unaware of my magic, the late nights spent practicing healing spells on wounded animals or patients that had come into his Boston office seeking extended treatment.

In combination with his medical prowess, I found that my magic was sufficient enough to reduce treatment time by nearly half, even with the most basic of spells. And while my power continued to fluctuate with the phases of the moon, I came to the discovery that at different phases, my spells reacted differently with the wounds and diseases they came into contact with. During a dark moon, I might be able to stop a person's vomiting with a simple digestive potion, but the same potion would have no effect on a patient with the same symptom if the moon was waning or it might make matters worse if administered during the full moon. Trial and error, as crude as it may sound, was the only way I was able to make any headway. The results of said experiments were all jotted down in a small black leather book that was tucked in the belt around my waist, a protective rune hidden just under the cover, making it impossible for anyone but myself to read its contents. 

Kingsley thought nothing of it, mostly because he didn't know that I had anything to do with sudden improvement or worsening of conditions amongst his patients. I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could, or at the very least until the end of this war that Queen Anne was so insistent upon waging. 

We trotted onward, surrounded on either side by pine trees and fog, dense and chilling in the early autumn air. The sun was hidden behind a heavy layer of gray clouds, the smell of petrichor hung over us warning of the impending autumnal rains that were sure to hit the shore at any time. The encampment for doctors and their associates was just past the bend in the road ahead, supposedly nestled amongst the pines beside the sheer cliffs of the Acadian shoreline. The not-so-distant sound of crashing waves roared and receded in its powerful, natural rhythm as we trotted on.

As we moved to the right of the road to take the bend, I felt a sudden presence, ancient and dark, reaching out to me from within the darkness beneath the trees. I tugged on the reins, bringing my mount to a halt as I scanned my surroundings. Under my breath, I muttered, "Mater divina me defendat hodie." 

A seductive chuckle echoed in my ear, though I couldn't tell what direction it came from. My head began to swivel back and forth, trying to find the source, only stopping when I came face-to-face with a woman dressed in hues of black and green. The cloak she wore seemed to fade into wisps of smoke as she stood not but five feet from me, a crown that appeared to crafted from fossilized thorns and obsidian resting atop the hood she wore. She had an entertained half-smirk upon her darkly painted lips, her eyes deep brown as the earth as they met my hazel gaze. 

"Prayers aren't going to get you anywhere, princess. Not here, at least." she said with a bit of a laugh. My horse snorted and began to spook, shuffling away from the woman with a frightened snort. Not wanting to agitate her further, I slid from her back and let my boots land softly on the grass, keeping the reins in one hand as I tilted my head at the woman before me. 

"You seem... familiar to me, and yet I know I've never seen you before in my life." 

"I get that a lot." 

There was a change of the light for only a moment, but in that brief time, I saw that the attractive face of the woman in front of me had changed. The lower half of her skull was exposed, no sinew or flesh to cover it, no blood or muscle to keep it living and the exposure spread down to her throat, where her esophagus sat nestled between two walls of cartilage. Just as quickly as the change appeared, it reverted back, and recognition hit me like a wall of stone. 

"Lady Death." I whispered. 

She smirked again, "In the flesh." 

I should have been terrified, scared to... well, death. But there was something about her that told me there was no need for fear. She wasn't here for me. So why was she standing in front me now?

"Why reveal yourself to me?"

She shrugged and began to circle me and my horse slowly, "There's something about you... you're important. And as much as I hate having Lunar witches walking around, you need to stick around for a while."

"That’s not an answer."

"Are you sure?"

I glared at her. She continued to smile back. When I wouldn’t relent, her grin dropped and she rolled her eyes. 

"You do know that most Lunar witches don’t live longer than a century, right?"

"I’m aware I’m on a doomed path.” I replied, trying to mask the slight tremble of my voice with a sharp edge, “A Lunar witch comes around maybe once every three hundred years. They never live long enough to teach the next one. Though I know you’re well aware of that."

"And yet, here I am, telling you that you’re the odd woman out."

"Why? What do you have to gain from my survival?"

Death scoffed at me, as if the whole concept of existence was amusing to her, "Nothing, actually. I'll lose more than I gain with you in the picture. But greater forces in this universe seem insistent on keeping you alive, so alive you’ll stay for now. But I must say, I'm looking forward to checking in on you over the next few centuries." 

I paled, there was no way to hide it, "What do mean?" 

"You're going into war, Aislin!" she exclaimed, as if it weren't obvious, "My favorite stomping grounds! We'll be seeing a lot of each other, I wager. Though I'm sure you'll be sick of me soon enough." 

She stopped her circling and looked to me full on, the intensity of her earthy eyes feeling as though they could bury me beneath the soil with just a hard enough glance. The around me seemed to shift, the petrichor smell growing steadily stronger. With a final smile, she offered me a sultry wave and said, "Te veo." 

And suddenly, I was alone in the clearing.

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

The doctors that had been summoned to serve did not take kindly to women in their presence. Of course, they had to tolerate the caretakers who sacrificed their white linens to the spatters of blood and fragments of flesh, but to have a woman stand among them as a student of the art, was far less palatable. After all, women had no place amongst the respectable ranks of surgeons and physicians, nor did the Iroquois healers who offered their services as their own warriors joined the British forces gathering on the coast, though given the choice, I'd have taken care from the Cayuga over Charles Cromwell any day. 

Kingsley found me as I led my horse on foot through camp aimlessly with my saddle pack and bedroll tucked under my free arm. He had taken no notice of my sudden absence, nor had he been subject to a surprise meeting with Death herself, but simply kept on riding to camp, claiming his large-framed tent and a much smaller one beside it. 

"Ah, did you get lost, Miss Stuart?" he asked me with a charming grin, "Or were you simply taking in the scenery?" 

"A bit of both I suppose." I answered honestly. I took my horse to the hitching post and tied her there, allowing her access to the trough and a bale of fresh hay before turning back to the young doctor. "Have I missed anything?" 

He shook his head, "Nothing at all. Lieutenant-General Nelson won't make landfall 'til midday on the 'morrow, at which time we'll board a smaller vessel and cross the channel to wait for incoming wounded and dead. I should warn you though, this siege may take weeks, months even. You still have time to return to Boston-"

I held up a hand to silence him, sending a sharp glare his way, "As much as I respect your offer, Rupert, I simply must decline. Despite the maliciously loud whispers I've heard about this camp already, I am most certainly needed here, so here I will stay. I do not shy away from the sword when it is flashed in my face." 

Kingsley's grin softened in understanding, a small nod rocked his head back and forth, "Spoken like a true fellow of medical academia, Miss Stuart. I suggest you take the evening to study, and if you're so inclined, I'd write to your family. Simply because we bear the caduceus, it does not mean we are immune from cannon and gun fire. You'll find all you need for the night in your tent."

Overhead, the skies finally broke, the satisfying drip of rainfall pattering against the trees and the waxed canvas tents. A few of the horses snorted in discontent but continued to eat away at the hay in front of them. As the heavy drops landed on our shoulders and heads, chilling us to the bone, we gave each other a silent farewell and retreated beneath the cover of our tents for the night. While I had no doubt that Kingsley's tent boasted all the necessary equipment he would need for operations and examinations, not to mention cigars and cheap liquor to numb his mind to the horrors incoming, mine was much reserved, containing only a camp bed with several woolen blankets, a pair of white cover aprons, and a small bedside table with a pair of lit candles.

Rupert must have placed the small stack of parchment on the table, along with an inkwell and quill. There was no way the other doctors would have extended such kindness to me, not when they didn't even want me there. Heaving a loud sigh, I dropped my bedroll and saddle pack onto the ground at my feet. I slumped onto the camp bed and let my head fall into my hands, my interaction with Death replaying over and over again in my mind.

She had told me that I was important, though at the moment, I couldn't possibly see how. And the way she had looked at me, as though I were a fresh piece of bloodied meat and she was a ravenous wolf... it was unsettling, though I suppose she always intended to be. 

"Oh, Divine Mother, what have you gotten me into?" I whispered, so softly that even I could barely hear myself. I dropped my hands and let my eyes wander back to the parchment on the small wooden table. I don't know how long I sat there staring at it, but by the time I had come to the conclusion to write, the gentle shower outside had increased to a torrential downpour, the weight of the water pounding against the roof of the tent as I dipped the quill into the murky black ink. As I took hold of the topmost sheet, I paused, wondering if sending a letter would make any difference. But then I thought of her, and the doubt melted away. I put the quill to the parchment and began to write in my most elegant script. 

Darling Agatha,

I hope that this letter finds you in suitable spirits after we departed on such egregious terms. Not that I fear for your well-being; I know you are certainly capable of taking care of yourself. I write to inform you that I have undertaken a task most unbecoming for women of our talents and station, serving as the student and assistant of one Doctor Rupert Kingsley of Boston. We, in response to the request made by the British Crown, have joined a cohort of other physicians and surgeons at a posting in Acadia, not thirty miles from the French stronghold of Port Royal, and are awaiting the order to cross the channel to provide medical assistance during the attempted siege of the fort. 

Having not heard from you in well over a decade, I am certain that you did not intend to seek me out again, and in truth, I was hesitant to write. But I am told that we, like the soldiers who will march onto the shore, will be subject to the shock and awe of war, and at the risk of walking into the next world without having settled the grievances between us, I found the courage to pen this letter. 

You may no long care for me, you may no longer wish to think of me, but I think of you often. And I shall be thinking of you on the 'morrow, when cannons roar overhead and the blood of dying men coats my hands. I shall be thinking of the days we spent in the peaceful solitude of the forest, relishing in the quiet hours that we spent together. I shall be thinking of you not as someone I once knew, but as someone I know and care for. For a witch should never abandon her coven and I, in my own anger and fear, have abandoned you.

It is my hope that upon my, with any luck inevitable, survival, that we may cross paths again, and I will once again be able to relish in peace with you as we once did. Until then, I shall think of you, darling, and hope that you think of me. 

With all my love, 

Aislin Stuart

I set the quill down and folded the parchment carefully once the ink had dried. Muttering a simple sending incantation, I lifted the letter to the candle on the left and let one corner light, before repeating the gesture with the candle on the right. I gripped the parchment tight between my fingers as the flames inched closer to my hand until I could no longer hold it. As I released my grip, I whispered, "Agatha Harkness." 

The ashes scattered in an invisible wind, drifting beneath the canvas walls of the tent and carrying my message to wherever she was. I lay back on my bed, and started at the roof in the eerie quiet, only drifting off to sleep when thunder finally began to roll in.  

[t1oui]

thinking about how living w regulus would affect harry like

he's such a fucking snob about everything. food, decor, fashion, you name it, he's got opinions on it.

he does ballet despite being the least graceful person on the planet. he's somehow pretty good at it, likely out of spite

speaks french

very much a cat person, has a cat named leo who is his baby

like yk how james and sirius are extremely codependent? that's how harry is w leo. both of them can not handle being apart from each other too long

reads a lot of stories

thinks seeker is the best quidditch position

on that note, lots of slytherin house pride. james hates it. harry refuses to put any gryffindor decorations up in his room

harry loves taking pictures just like reg so the house is filled with photographs

and ofc harry is snobby about what types of cameras he uses thanks to reg. james now just lets them deal with the cameras & photography stuff bc he's scared to get the wrong thing lol

harry is taller than reg but bc dysphoria all of reg's old clothes (like quidditch jerseys + hoodies and stuff) are his size so half his wardrobe is from reg's hogwarts days

definitely the type of guy to change his bedding & curtains & everything in his room based on the season. will anybody actually be in there other than him and his parents? not really, but he MUST redecorate

idk what this even means but snobby about candles. this is another thing james is scared to buy him

harry and reg speak french w each other more than english

since james doesn't speak french w harry (i hc he's only comfortable speaking it w reg) harry is used to having a conversation in two different languages so sometimes he'll be speaking french w his friends without noticing

he'll be in the middle of a rant and realize they don't understand a thing he's saying lol

reg and harry control the decorating for every holiday, every birthday, etc.

the one thing harry knows how to do that reg doesn't/reg didn't teach him is cooking. reg never cooked for himself as a child so james was the one who taught him

doesn't look like it most of the time but all of harry's clothes are very expensive... did i mention he's a snob

harry is such a dry texter/writer... he's such a dick about grammar when it comes to writing even tho he can barely string a sentence together when speaking

deeply sarcastic (look! a canon detail! we never thought we'd see that on this account, did we?)

will take his partners on the most expensive dates & whatnot like it's nothing... cedric the farmboy™️ is not prepared

writes sad boy poetry when he gets annoyed w someone... like harry will storm off all pissed and then he comes back 20 mins later with a beautifully written, very angry poem for whoever made him mad

has so many clothes & different curtains and bedding sets for different seasons that he also uses the closet in the guest room (reg takes up 99% of his and james's closet for the same reason)

has an inherent hatred of fake plants

bedroom is simultaneously tidy and so messy a hurricane might as well have come through

leaves a book behind everywhere he goes

secretly the worst sense of humor lmao

he may not have gotten his love of drawing/painting from regulus, but you def see reg in the way he is, you guessed it, a massive snob about art supplies

soooo indecisive. redoes his room at least twice a year

an asshole when he gets less than 10 hours of sleep... he's mildly tolerable after 3 cups of coffee (black, of course) but you might as well just ignore him until he gets a nap in

on that note is very good at making coffee and is, drum roll please, a massive snob about it. who would've guessed (somebody count how many times i've said snob in this post and comment it please and thank you)

if he doesn't like a gift he's horrible at pretending he's happy w it so people usually go through reg whenever they buy him something... this goes both ways too, people go through harry when buying something for reg

is visually james and lily's but in personality is really just reg's (and also lily's... he definitely inherited his spite from her lol)

is a crazy cat lady by age 20

at least 10 pictures of leo in his room... he has whole photoshoots for her and she poses for them

might as well not hang out w harry at his house bc he'll make out with his cat the whole time

loves going to art museums w regulus

he's a, surprise surprise, snob about art. james just doesn't comment on art altogether atp

his vocabulary is a weird mashup of french, english, and hindi that makes it very hard for anybody who doesn't know him well to understand what he's saying lol

looks angry until he smiles (he got this from lily but a life with reg has perfected it)

needs a golden retriever to his black cat in any given relationship (enter cedric and cho) (yes i'm going to push my rarepair on everyone reading this)

tl;dr being raised by/living w regulus has turned harry into a massive snob about literally everything and regulus is proud of it (blink twice if you need help, james)

[indieyuugure]

Hi Indie !

First of all, I truly love your version of TMNT. Your dialogues are so good and the designs are great. In terms of writing it kind of reminds me of the Webtoon comic: Batman, Wayne Family Adventures in the way that it’s a brilliant take on a famous franchise.

Also, I kind of had a question and a request.

I noticed a change of style with the color scheme you have now compare to your previous sketches. Like before, Mickey’s stickers were colored and blood was red when those elements are now in black and white. My question is why the change ? Not that it’s a bad choice or it doesn’t fit in you aesthetic, I was just genuinely wondering😁.

As for my request, well I’m French and I really enjoy doing translation either from French to English or from English to French. Therefore I was wondering if you were okay with me doing a French version of your comics ? If you’re not, I totally understand so no worry😁

I can’t wait for the next chapter !!! I wish all the best !

Aw thank you so much! I’m so glad you love the art and the writing! I’ve never read that webcomic, but I’ve heard about it before! I’ll take it as a compliment! ^v^

That is an excellent question! Basically I wanted to reduce the colors on the pages to just the colors of one of the characters items.

I’ve actually been cutting down on color usage since TMS (April’s hair and Casey’s under shirt were colored red and mauve respectively in ROTP but not in TMS) since I felt that it made for some very odd color things, like it felt like too much color be stylistic, but too little to be fully colored? Idk I just didn’t like it, so in TMS every character was allotted two colors: one eye color and one outfit color. That made it a lot simpler and drastically decreased the feeling I had about the colors.

That reason is also why I cut Mikey’s sticker colors. I did think about it, but I decided against it because it felt odd to give Mikey three colors and everyone else one. He’s not the MC, so like, it just seemed like an odd design choice to continue with.

The removal of using red for blood is a bit more complicated. I actually considered making it red in Indie TMNT, but I ended up not because of a few reasons.

1: Red is Raph’s color, it should be used as such (every character only got one color anyway, reusing the color makes it feel less special that it’s there)

2: flushing, whether because of love or illness or embarrassment or whatever, was also being shaded with red because it’s caused by blood, and I just didn’t really like the way it looked? I dunno probably a personal thing? I won’t say why cause I don’t wanna put the thought in your heads, but specifically with Donnie’s face being red from his fever in TMS, I just didn’t like it.

3: I found that the color red makes wounds more graphic. Not sure why? I found with TMS I was having to censor Leo’s wounds more than I anticipated. They were originally so much more disgusting when the red was added that I had to add a lot more black to be comfortable with the drawing. I’m satisfied with my results, I think I struck a good balance, but it did kind get me thinking since I plan to make Indie TMNT just as gory.

Its original purpose for being added was because wounds were key plot points in both ROTP and TMS and I wanted you to pay attention to them and remember them. Now, that’s not to say they’re not important in Indie Tmnt, but I found with the increased violence I was adding (because murder is okay in this comic) it felt unnecessary. Almost every fight scene has splatters of blood that aren’t really that plot related, so it’s not the same as TMS which follows 2012’s no blood or injuries in fights rule until it’s shattered. So in addition to all the other reasons listed, I felt it was fine to get rid of the usage of red for blood and other injuries in this comic.

TLDR: I want each character’s color to be special and they only get one cause I’m lazy and I think it looks cooler. Red blood makes people squeamish but black blood doesn’t 🤷‍♀️ also less important in this comic

As for your request: YES!! I’m totally okay with it, you absolutely may! I would love that! However you decide to do it, just be sure you credit me as the original author of the comic and send me a link when your done so I can post it on the comic masterpost for anyone who wants the translation to read!

Good questions! :]

[taliesin-the-bored]

It was a musical, but...I am not beating the allegations.

I shall take this as an opportunity to ramble about Rómeó ��s Júlia, the subject of said allegations by @unstark, who may have created a monster (/j; thank you for doing so).

The first thing to know is that I haven't read Romeo and Juliet since middle school and liked it well enough then but wasn't really enthused because I liked the poetic elements but found the romance somewhat grating. However, I am a theater kid/opera nerd at heart, and looking at different versions of things and analyzing the connections, sometimes to an obsessive degree, is one of the things I live for (that's part of the lure of Arthuriana).

The second is that Rómeó és Júlia (ResJ) is fantastic, in large part because the cast is incredibly talented. I've seen all or a good portion of several different language versions of the musical, which originated in France as Roméo et Juliette (RetJ), and they all have good or decent but reasonably similar Juliets and mostly fine to mediocre Romeos. In addition to having a good Juliet, this Romeo, played by Dolhai Attila, was quite charming as an actor as well as a great singer so the rest have been mostly downhill. I am afraid, though, that like most of the people on ResJ/RetJ Tumblr, the characters I found most interesting were Mercutio and Tybalt, who both vary wildly from production to production. In ResJ, Mercutio (who fans call Zolicutio because he's played by Zoltán Bereczki) is a force of nature, and I did not properly appreciate that the first time I watched it. He sings, dances almost constantly, acts well, and raps in Magyar, and he never seems to stop or slack in energy until he dies. Tybalt, on the other hand, is a deeply tortured soul who's occasionally comedic in his melodrama (he does the Mr. Bean walk once) but has genuine pathos. I originally watched the first half without subtitles and did not realize the...ahem...concerning nature of his thoughts about Juliet, but that's in almost every version of the musical, and it is not as big a trigger warning as the obvious one, which is that Romeo and Juliet includes onstage suicide and murder, as well as references to sexual content. This is probably the first thing anyone learns about Romeo and Juliet, but I thought I should put that out there to be safe. Anyway, Szilveszter Szabó was vastly different than how I pictured Tybalt while reading the play, but he was excellent and brought a new perspective to the character. You love to see it. Also, ResJ Benvolio is a punk with the heart of a golden retriever, another far-from-the-play take which works in its context.

Now, the 2010 French version. I followed ResJ with the RetJ revival because John Eyzen's Mercutio is the second most popular Mercutio on Tumblr, after the inimitable Zolicutio, and I wanted to see what the hype was about. He is vastly, vastly different, both from how I imagined Mercutio and how Mercutio is in any other production. Eycutio alternates between stillness and over-the-top energy. He may or may not be bad mental illness rep. He may or may not be beholden to the madness-inducing entities of Chaos. Eyzen fully embraced the vibes of "La Follie" and the Queen Mab speech Mercutio has in Shakespeare to create a very unstable dude who revels in unpredictability and danger to a greater degree than Zolicutio and has probably won Best-Haired Veronese Man three years in a row. He has a love/hate relationship with Tybalt and flirts with him while fighting. (Zolicutio also flirts with Tybalt, but less in a I've-secretly-liked-you-since-we-were-twelve-but-also-hate-you-and-we-kissed-at-a-party-once-but-you-pretend-you-don't-remember-and-I'm-going-to-make-that-hard-for-you way than an I-bet-you're-into-me-and-also-that-you'll-hate-this-and-I-could-be-into-you-but-it's-not-clear-and-I-canonically-kissed-Romeo-but-didn't-seem-serious-about-it-and-I-rap-about-not-liking-romance-and-it-might-be-to-hide/drown/prevent-the-pain-or-I-might-be-aroallo-and-thriving way). Tim Ross's 2nd Tybalt looks and acts like the unlikely and maltreated test-tube child of George Michael and Cruella de Vil, and I'm going to leave it about that, because I have rambled too long without mentioning that Romeo's costume is exceptionally terrible in this one, that I really did not like Escalus, and that the Nurse was fantastic. All in all, what this one has to recommend it is the excellent Nurse, plus Tybalt and Mercutio's unevenly acted but ultimately interesting dynamic, which is the stuff of Fanlore pages.

I have not watched all of the 2001 French original, even though many people say Cécilia Cara is the best Juliet, because the other Juliets are also good and apparently a bald Mercutio is one thing I cannot take. (I could under certain conditions. If he were a young cancer patient, then that would add an urgency to his fervor for living life to the fullest, and a suspicion that he's going to die painfully soon whatever he does could influence his recklessness, but him being considerably older and more sophisticated than Romeo is weird). I might watch more of it, but it's low priority.

Apart from those, I've watched large parts of the Italian and Israeli ones, which I prefer to the French ones in acting but not in singing. The Italian one is a lot more dramatic than the Israeli one, which is maybe the least dramatic RetJ variant ever but pulls it off really well. The characters seem like normal people you would meet who try their best but get caught up in a tragedy bigger than they can understand. Of special note, as usual, is that ever-shifting scene, the duel between Mercutio and Tybalt, and this is the most original take on it I've seen. What sets it apart is that THEY DON'T EVEN DISLIKE EACH OTHER. You get the sense that they've had a lighthearted rivalry since they were kids but they're sort of friends and it's all a game to them. It's also the only version I've seen where those two actually have fencing swords, so the fight looks more realistic, emphasizing that they're playing with fire. When he realizes Mercutio is dying, Tybalt is visibly devastated and seems to lose the will to live. I don't usually cry at movies or shows, but that is the version which brought me the closest to crying.

I would like to watch the 2019 Toho version, since it comes highly recommended, but am not sure where to and might have to wait a while on that one. After I'm done with the Italian one, I intend to watch the Russian one, the German one, and the alternate cast recording of the Hungarian one. As for the English one...well, I've listened to a bit of it, and it was awful.

If you want to watch multiple versions at once or see which ones you might like, there is a great playlist on YouTube where someone edited together parts of the videos of different versions. If you want an incoherent-without-watching-the-full-thing but possibly still entertaining look into it, watch this compilation someone made, which is extremely funny if you've actually seen the full musical.

If you've read this entire semi-coherent ramble, you're a trooper. I hope it was vaguely interesting. Have a wonderful day!

it’s really easy to become obsessed with a shakespeare play you just have to watch one version of it and then read the play and then go mad trying to watch every possible version of it you can find and then study several centuries worth of performance history and controversy

[istadris]

Temeraire the Musical

I mentioned in another post that we could do it, so let's-a goooo, at least for Act I :

The first song introduces the situation (the war and Napoleon and all war) as well as Laurence's leitmotive/main theme : a solemn sea shanty, a rhythm easy to fall in to show his adhesion to order and cohesion and yet having a longing for companionship and the sea/sky.

Laurence's leitmotiv evolves through the story as his ideals get more and more broken. At least two reprises of Laurence's song, one after his treason, with a broken, dissonant, minor version, and one after he regains his memories and makes peace with who he is and what he has done and why he's more satisfised with who he is now than who he was before

Second song is the capture of the french ship, the discovery of the egg and the question of who will harness it ; it serves to introduce the rumours and prejudice about aviators, with the chorus having worrying "who will harness it ? Who will claim the beast?" The last verse has Temeraire's egg hatching, everyone holding their breath as he starts poking around... and the spoken line "Why are you frowning ?"

Temeraire's first song starts right after that line and it's a fast paced song with a flurry of questions to which Laurence (and the rest of the crew) answers the best he can. Sometimes the question raises a very complicated Point to answer, which it serves as a silent beat as Laurence is unable to answer before Temeraire goes on with the next series of questions

Remember how Hiccup and Toothless' leitmotivs are different but mingle together beautifully in Test Drive ? So do Laurence and Temeraire's .

Volly has a song. It's short and very silly and very cute and it's an earworm of the worst kind. Baby Shark but dragon musical style!

Laurence's introduction to the Corps has a song with Rankin serving as first as an expository narrator, setting the tune and seemingly friendly and in tune with Laurence's own melody, but at some point the song starts shifting as Laurence questions some of the methods of the aviators (why is no one reading to their dragons? Why does no one take off their harness ? Why is Levitas' captain always away) until it ends on Rankin casually mentioning he's Levitas' captain.

I'm sorry but if Celeritas doesn't get a version of this song as he trains Laurence, Temeraire and the rest of the bunch, then what is the point ?? But more seriously, as it comes right after the revelation of Rankin's abuse of Levitas, Laurence realises why everyone is so cold to him and both him and Temeraire gets through a bit of bullying before their first actions in battle earn them the respect of the formation and crews.

Laurence and Jane have a duet which, at first sight, sounds like a perfectly innocent discussion between fellow officers about the war, and Emily, and dragons, and whatnot, establishing more of Jane's badass personality and incredible presence. Except it becomes quickly clear that Jane's part is also loaded with innuendos completely flying over Laurence's head. Poor Laurence doesn't realize his own part is making the innuendos worse.

Oh, Emily definitely gets a song. And it's the more innocent version of the double discussion Laurence has with her mother.

Laurence's beating down of Rankin is both awesome and tragic. A song full of rage and sorrow, with Laurence taking conscience he's broken rules for a dragon and yet doesn't give a damn -but still thinks of Rankin as the bad apple rather than the logical conclusion of an abusive system putting dragons at the mercy of their captains since their hatching. Ahem.

The battle of Dover is definitely the end of Act I song, with Temeraire's first Divine Wind being a high point of the song, foretold by Laurence and Temeraire's theme becoming one in their passion and loyalty for England and for each other.

Napoleon's theme is hinted through the entire act, but we never see the man himself; a ghost whose shadow threatens to engulf all of Europe.

And that's for Act I !

I'll admit that if I ever adapted this story into a musical, there would sadly be things to cut out of the story, but that'll be for another post.

If you have any additions or ideas, please tell me!

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Propaganda under the Read More:

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas:

a. “mustache” b. “Tall! Daring! Swashbuckling! A devoted husband and father! Had a personal conflict with Napoleon! Also it was said he could, while holding onto a bar above his head, LIFT A HORSE WITH HIS THIGHS. How is he not on this list ten times already! Vote for General Dumas!” c. “He was so hot that he inspired The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and many more books that his son, Alexandre Dumas, wrote. He definitely looked the part of a sexyman, as he son recounts in his memoirs: "My father, as already stated, was twenty-four, and as handsome a young fellow as could be found anywhere. His complexion was dark, his eyes of a rich chestnut colour […]. His teeth were white, his lips mobile, his neck well set on his powerful shoulders, and, in spite of his height of five feet nine inches, he had the hands and feet of a woman. These feet were the envy of his mistresses, whose shoes he was very rarely able to put on." He could crush you between his thighs: "His free colonial life had developed his strength and prowess to an extraordinary degree; he was a veritable American horse-lad, a cowboy. His skill with gun or pistol was the envy of St. Georges and Junot. And his muscular strength became a proverb in the army. More than once he amused himself in the riding-school by passing under a beam, and lifting his horse between his legs." He was so badass he could beat 13 men with 4 and take all the enemy prisoner, and defend against hundreds of men on a bridge by himself. He performed these acts of valour numerous times in Italy. He was so formidable that the Austrians named him the "Schwartz Teufel", or the Black Devil, and his feat at the bridge earned him the moniker of "Horatius Cocles of Tyrol". He wasn't afraid to stand up to his morals and protest against unfair treatment. When unjust executions by the guillotine were happening outside his quarters, he closed the blinds of his curtains, earning him the nickname "Mr. Humanity". When in the Vendée, he complained about the wanton indiscipline in his troops. When in Italy, Berthier wrongly reported his actions as one of "observation" in St. Antonio. Dumas wrote to General Bonaparte that if Berthier was in the same position, he would have shit his pants. Dumas abhorred plunder, never exhorted the locals, and ordered the Directory agent who had come to persuade him otherwise be shot if he dared present himself to Dumas again. Integrity and a sense of moral justice is sexy, mark my words. For Dumas' final qualifier as a sexyman, look no further than this Tumblr heritage post (https://www.tumblr.com/petermorwood/133803437020/hortensevanuppity-elodieunderglass), with 300,000 notes and counting. And I quote: "- daddy general dumas was an immense fierce french warrior who was a 6 foot plus, stunningly gorgeous and charismatic Black gentleman - he invaded egypt - the native egyptians said “is this napoleon? this must be napoleon. we for one welcome our majestic new overlord” - then napoleon showed up - napoleon has all the presence of yesterday’s plain Tesco hummus - the native egyptians were like “… no… no, we’ve thought very hard and we’ll have General Dumas actually” - this did not make napoleon happy - in fact it made him jealous - napoleon felt so emasculated that he launched a campaign of revenge against General Dumas, including taking away his pension, that probably inspired a lot of Alexandre’s rather satisfying scenes in which fathers are nobly avenged and the money-grubbing villains are rubbed in the mud" I rest my case. Tl;dr: He was so hot he inspired multiple books, he was a stronk man who could crush you between his thighs or carry you like a sack of potatoes, and he was so badass that he could take on odds of 1 to 3. He had a foul mouth but a heart of gold and his actions were never self-serving. Posts relating to him on Tumblr have had 300,000 notes and counting. He is qualitatively and quantitatively qualified to be a sexyman.”

Pyotr Bagration:

a. “From what I’ve read, he was a shy sweetheart outside of war, and an absolutely badass during battle. Like- it was partially that shyness that got him caught up in his less than favorable marriage. Also, have you seen his portrait by George Dawes?! It makes me swoon at the sight of it.” b. “The best, the sexiest and certainly the greatest NOSE in the Russian army and perhaps all armies of that period. Noseys of Napoleonic era, beware! Believed to be a target of Grand Duchess Catherine Pavlovna's affections, a soldier's soldier celebrated for his courage and spirit, respected even by Napoleon and widely beloved… with the noted exceptions of his own wife and one Barclay de Tolly.” c. “His sideburns and his nose”

[isiaiowin]

GOetry - Let's Rondel

Welcome to GOetry! A weekly poetry club.

Every Monday, you'll receive a new poetry prompt and have until the following Monday to submit your poetic creations. Come join the fun! Post your finished work under the #GOetry and don't forget to tag me @isiaiowin so I can see your work.

You can also add your work to the AO3 collection here.

Thank you for joining in writing sonnets last week! The incredible work you produced was amazing to read. 

This week’s prompt:

Form: Rondel

Theme: Resist

A Rondel is a French form of poetry dating back to the 14th century. It consists of 13 lines arranged in three stanzas, typically two quatrains (four-line stanzas) followed by a quintet (five-line stanza), with repeated lines throughout the poem.

The rhyme scheme is: ABba / abAB / abbaA(B), where uppercase letters represent repeated lines.

A common variant, known as a Rondel Prime, adds a 14th line, turning the final quintet into a sestet.

If you'd like to write a Rondel Prime, simply add an extra line to the end!

Example: 

Reflecting by: Lawrencealot 

When desolation grabs your heart and forces tears

Let nature speak, reminding you not all is known.

When you, so young were taken to the funeral biers

my faith was shattered; all beliefs and hopes were thrown

away. I felt no comfort thinking heaven’s spheres

could somehow recompense for earthly love we’d grown.

When desolation grabs your heart and forces tears

Let nature speak reminding you not all is known.

I went to our lagoon, our waterfall appears

today to look like you, and hope renewed is sown

into my soul.  We lived and loved! This thought coheres.

That truly shines. Remember we are just on loan.

When desolation grabs your heart and forces tears

Let nature speak reminding you not all is known.

But most of all have fun! 💚 Moon

@goodomensafterdark

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 18 (Extended Cut): The WIRED Autocomplete Chaos

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2)

The extended portion of Mark’s WIRED interview didn’t disappoint—it just got funnier, stranger, and more chaotic. As the questions kept rolling in, so did the reactions from Charles, Max, and Carlos, who were visibly trying to keep it together as Mark navigated some of the weirdest questions the internet had to offer.

Mark (looking at the next question): “Alright, next question—What is Mark Spencer's favorite food?"

Mark: "Well, there are plenty since I love both eating and cooking, but if I had to choose… gotta go with my comfort food: french fries."

Charles (mockingly gasping): "Not a five-star gourmet dish? Shocking."

Mark (laughing): "Hey, I keep it simple sometimes."

Mark (moving on to the next): "Does Mark Spencer watch anime?"

Mark: "Yeah, I do! I just finished watching Kimetsu no Yaiba."

Carlos (raising an eyebrow): "Really? You don’t strike me as the anime type."

Mark: "Oh, I’m full of surprises. I even cry during the sad parts."

Charles (smirking): "Ah, so you do have feelings."

Mark (playfully glaring): "Watch it, Leclerc."

Mark (baffled at the next search): "Is Mark Spencer alive?"

Mark (leaning back dramatically): "Barely. Dude, what is wrong with these people? Are you sure these are actual searches?"

Max (chiming in): "Well, sometimes we wonder too."

Mark (grinning): "Rude."

Mark (squinting at the next one): "Is Mark Spencer handsome?"

Mark (straight-faced): "Not at all."

Charles (snorting): "Right, because you don’t spend half your time looking in the mirror."

Mark (grinning): "Only to check if my abs are still there."

Carlos (laughing): "You checked just five minutes ago!"

Mark (deadpan): "Is Mark Spencer funny?"

Mark (grinning): "As I said, I’m a clown."

Charles (smirking): "That’s the first thing you've said that’s true."

Mark (eyes widening at the next one): "Is Mark Spencer joining Hollywood?"

Mark (shaking his head): "Nah, I’m focused on the grid for now. Gotta keep Max on his toes."

Max (leaning forward, smirking): "You wish."

Mark (jaw dropping): "Mark Spencer leaks?!?!"

Mark (laughing): "Huh, WHAT?!?!? Oh, they’re talking about my old photos. Dude, it sounded like a sex tape for a second."

Carlos (choking on his laughter): "I was about to say, man!"

Charles (facepalming): "Can we not?"

Mark (calmly): "Mark Spencer theatre."

Mark: "Oh, you must be talking about my plays from when I was younger. Some of you may not know, but I was a theater kid for a while. I even used to sing."

Max (teasing): "Sing? We need proof of that."

Mark (nodding): "Just wait, I’ll bring out my guitar at the next after-party."

Mark (smiling at the next one): "Mark Spencer’s favorite movie."

Mark: "Well, there are a lot of them. I really liked La La Land. As for my favorite show… it’s could be Stranger Things , call me basic but i know my choice."

Charles (raising an eyebrow): "La La Land? That explains your drama."

Mark: "Hey, it’s a masterpiece."

Mark (sighing at the next question): "Mark Spencer crash."

Mark (growing serious): "There’s not much to talk about, really. It happens in the sport, you know?"

Carlos (gently): "Yeah, but we know you bounce back quickly."

Charles (nodding): "You’re tougher than you look."

Mark (reading the next one): "Is Mark Spencer good?"

Mark (grinning): "No, Mark Spencer is not good."

Charles (mockingly): "Finally, he admits it."

Mark (laughing at the next question): "Is Mark Spencer fast?"

Mark (winking at the camera): "In some things, yes. In others… no comment."

Max (grinning): "Definitely not on track."

Mark (scoffing): "Is Mark Spencer owner of the Spencer business?"

Mark: "No, I am not. That’s my dad’s gig."

Charles (teasing): "But you wouldn’t mind if they handed it over, right?"

Mark (grinning): "Hey, I’m fine sticking to racing for now."

Mark (rolling his eyes): "Is Mark Spencer mean?"

Mark (sarcastic): "Very mean. Don’t come near me."

Mark (bursting out laughing): "Is Mark Spencer pregnant?"

Mark (sarcastically): "Yes, I’m pregnant. (chuckles) What is going on with these people? How is that even possible?!"

Max (cracking up): "I guess it’s possible for you, Mark. You are full of surprises."

Charles (face in his hands, laughing): "Can we move on?"

Mark (still chuckling): "Mark Spencer could modal."

Mark: "Dude, y’all should really focus on your English. As for the question—yes, I’ve modeled for a few things. Watches, perfumes, even some kids’ products. No idea why, but hey, money’s money."

The laughter among the group was uncontrollable at this point. Even the production crew behind the cameras could be heard snickering. The video wrapped up with everyone in hysterics, and Mark, of course, couldn’t resist throwing in one last wink at the camera.

The comment section blew up again, continuing the chaotic vibe:

Top Comments:

@french_frylover: "Mark’s favorite food being fries? He’s truly one of us 😂🍟"

@anime_weeb: "HE WATCHES ANIME!!! I'M SCREAMING!! Kimetsu no Yaiba, though?! Taste!!"

@ship_chaos: "Mark Spencer pregnant?!?!? The Internet is WILD 😭😭"

@multilingual_mark: "Fluent in 5 languages and can change his accent at will?? Dude’s a whole package 😳"

@f1shippersunite: "Mark knows about the ships!! And the way he laughed about it… we’re not worthy 🙏"

@thespian_mark: "Mark was a theater kid?! We need more of this side of him! Somebody make him sing at the next party!"

@maxsarcastic: "The Max and Mark dynamic is sending me. Those two are chaotic evil together. 😂"

It was safe to say the Internet wasn't ready for this interview. --- (YES this format was different than the previous one)

[cheesybadgers]

JSAMN 20 Readalong

I don't know why but I'm always a big fan of scenes between characters who don't spend much time together one-to-one, which is why the interaction between Strange and Childermass in chapter 48 is one of my favourites.

Some of my personal highlights from this chapter:

I hadn't actually noticed Piranesi gets name-dropped in JSAMN! I think I last read JSAMN quite a while before Piranesi (the book) came out, so I wouldn't have thought anything of it at the time. I do love how all of Susanna Clarke's books connect to each other in some way, and I can definitely see parallels between the labyrinth qualities of the King's Roads in JSAMN and the house in Piranesi.

"Strange had his umbrella and Childermass was entirely indifferent to the rain falling upon him." I love this contrast for some reason, not only the north/south (and class) divide in their attitudes to bad weather lol, but because it says a lot about their styles of magic. Strange spends the start of this chapter moaning to Sir Walter about how small fry weather magic is and how he wants to try something grander and more ambitious, but Childermass, who has spent the last 20+ years in the service of Norrell, who we know has a special talent for rain magic, seems more at one with the elements. You can take the man out of Yorkshire and all that...

Childermass attempting to speak French but being unable to hide his Yorkshire accent (as someone from Yorkshire myself, I feel his pain lol).

Strange calling Childermass "magician" makes me swoon tbh (along with "Why not come and be contrary with me?"), so I can only imagine how that made Childermass feel 😂 Although, I think Strange blew it by thinking pupil/assistant was a vast improvement on servant/man of business, and as Childermass says, he and Norrell "aren't done with each other yet." I like the pragmatism of Childermass' counter-offer and it feels truer to his character, but oh how I wish we'd gotten to see him and Strange exploring the King's Roads together (so much so, I made a moodboard about it not long after the TV adaptation aired).

Childermass' promise to put forward an opposing magical view if either Strange or Norrell fail becomes even more fascinating when we know how their story actually ends, and given the position Childermass finds himself in at the end as well. It sounds like Susanna Clarke still has plans to write more books in this universe, so I can only hope that one day she pops back in on Childermass (and Vinculus).

[glitchgw2]

OC deput post!

Meet Autopsist Luccem (Lucc for short)

An Inquest "scientist" who's tasked to perform autopsies on deceased fellow Inquest members, experiments (asura only), or asura brought to him from elsewhere by the Inquest to determine their cause of death or...just because! They don't even need to be dead; but if they get in Lucc's hands, their demise is guaranteed. Low scum are often sent to him to be dealt with, to get rid of, be tortured, or have their brain removed for proprietary knowledge. He is quite renown for his enthusiasm about his job, and so people hope they never get sent to him for anything.

Some more art:

Some trivia, toyhou.se link and a bonus art piece (cw gore) is below the read more!

QnA!

How did he get into the Inquest?

After one too many arrests, the Inquest felt like a warm welcome, where his genius and love for unethical cadaver handling wasn't to be punished.

Can he use magic? Does he fight?

He's rather a science guy. He can name every bone in your body but can't conjure fires or anything. He can use a gun though. And he also has a bonesaw. But still, he prefers to rely on defense golems and security systems. Outsmart your enemies and always be two steps ahead of them, you know.

What does he do in his free time?

He likes to play the latest version of digital ecto-gambling on his datapad.

More trivia:

No one knows for sure where his lab is and one can only guess; any and all entry is only available through asura gates placed in different Inquest headquarters. This is also the method he gets bodies transferred to him.

He refuses to work with other asura. He has assistant golems in his lab (and well, technically krewe) exclusively.

He handles a lot of bodies contaminated with chaos magic, hence his yellow pupils.

He's a fan of my goth asura band, Mortis Twins.

He speaks with a slight French accent for some reason.

Bonus art: (cw gore)

I keep saying to myself he's professional, yet his autopsy table is long overdue a fix/upgrade. 😭

And finally, Toyhou.se link.

(Note: he's an AU for an existing character of mine and both of them have content warnings. I hid some darker things behind the content warning because my OC has everything wrong with him in every universe ever.)

[quailfence]

[Image description taken from alt: Image 1: Irene looks aside, holding her cup of tea. She says to Aronnax, “(brackets) Is it so late already? Oh, how the time flies! Thank you so much, both of you, but I’m afraid I must go, or I will miss the ferry back to England!” Image 2: Conseil, also holding a cup of tea, tilts his head at her and says, “(brackets) It is still early, and there are more ferries through the day; won’t you finish your tea?” Irene responds, “(brackets) I am sorry, I have some errands yet to run while I am in Paris.” Image 3: Aronnax escorts her to the door, where Irene takes up her bag. Conseil has moved to hold the door open; there is notably space enough for a person to sneak by. Aronnax says, “(brackets) Of course, madame. It was a pleasure to have you visit. Should you come by Paris again, do bring your charming husband!” Image 4: A shot of Irene inside a cab, pulling the door closed, hand clutched over the bag with the journal. Irene, glaring at Griffin, says in a sharp whisper, “You weren’t supposed to take (italics) it!” Image 5: A different angle of the interior of the cab, which shows Griffin trying to wrap himself up in a dressing gown. He says, “I couldn’t read it—I didn’t know it would be in French! (italics)” Image 6: Irene takes a shawl out of her bag, offering it to Griffin as he reaches for it. Irene says, “I told you he only spoke French.” Griffin responds, “But you didn’t say his diary— (italics)” Image 7: Irene gives Griffin an incredulous look. “His diary would be even more (italics) likely to be in French! Why suggest the idea if you couldn’t read the language?” Image 8: Griffin hunches in his seat, now bundled in the dressing gown and shawl. He says, “…I didn't think that far ahead.” End description.]

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Start reading Episode 1

Dialogue transcripts:

Panel 1

Irene: <Is it so late already?  Oh, how the time flies!  Thank you so much, both of you, but I’m afraid I must go, or I will miss the ferry back to England!>

Panel 2

Conseil: <“It is still early, and there are more ferries through the day; won’t you finish your tea?>

Irene:  <I am sorry, I have some errands yet to run while I am in Paris.>

Panel 3

Aronnax:  <Of course, madame.  It was a pleasure to have you visit.  Should you come by Paris again, do bring your charming husband!>

Panel 4

Irene: You weren’t supposed to take it!

Panel 5

Griffin:  I couldn’t read it—I didn’t know it would be in French!

Panel 6

Irene:  I told you he only spoke French.

Griffin:  But you didn’t say his diary—

Panel 7

Irene: His diary would be even more likely to be in French!  Why suggest the idea if you couldn’t read the language?

Panel 8

Griffin: …I didn't think that far ahead.

[ephemeral-winter]

things are NOT going well in the latin homework google doc: i have just encountered a word that logeion is only familiar with in the latino-sinicum dictionary, which means now i've gotta open up google translate and see if i can make heads or tails of its rendering of chinese characters. okay it appears to mean oblong. now onto the next word, which is only given in gaffiot, where the entry very helpfully looks like this: