#miss galatea

[twistedtriptych]

[Hello! This blog has been on hiatus for a some time while I focused on schoolwork, but I am now on summer break. Expect more updates soon!]

[doomedlightningshard]

Let us return for a moment to Lady Lovelace's objection, which stated that the machine can only do what we tell it to do. One could say that a man can 'inject' an idea into the machine, and that it will respond to a certain extent and then drop into quiescence, like a piano string struck by a hammer.

Turing, Alan M. (1950). "Computing machinery and intelligence." Mind 59 (October): 433-60. (Moren belongs to @azure-dragonsinger)

[sofipitch]

I was reading a collection of Māori myth retellings (Pūrākau: Māori Myths Retold by Māori Writers) and there I read the myth of the creation of the first woman, Hine-nui-te-pō, which was very similar to John and Alecto's story. She was molded from the earth/dirt by the god Tane, and she was his wife until she ran away, ashamed because he was her father and husband, and became a goddess of darkness and death/underworld. Here's a link to a very short summary of the myth. The way the book presented the creation myth was the standard, men longed for company/sex, but she does seem to be a fairly important and powerful goddess (killed the hero Maui) which differs from John's comparison of Alecto to other women who were created in stories

[unreadpoppy]

Saw this in @dark-and-kawaii 's blog and I really like these charts so I wanted to do one for Gal and Minthara

it was doing this that I remembered how much older and shorter Minthara is kkkkkkkk

blank chart under the cut for those who want to do it

[crescentfool]

fe3h doodls from the year....! mostly sylvain bc i love him a totally normal amount...

[randomnameless]

Re about Faerghus and growing stuff :

We have the Nordsalat, being described as :

A magical vegetable that grows in frigid, unyielding environments. Cook into a dish that boosts charm.

In the JP version though, it's "magically" bred to grow in cold regions - so bar reigniting another round of "FoDlAn Is BaCkWaRdS" bcs even if no canons they can use magic to make things grow up in the tundra - this made me think of the AG mention, where apparently some members of the CoS are going to Galatea at the invitation of the count :

Recently, several of the church's scholars headed to Galatea territory, I believe at the invitation of the count. Galatea's evidently an impoverished place, devoid of anything but wild wastes. I guess they're working on some kind of reclamation project. In any event, I'm glad that both us and them are gonna be helping the people of the Kingdom.

Could it be that the "reclamation project" they're working on is sharing the, idk, "magic formula" to make nordsalat grow in Galatea?

The jp text for tomatoes mentions how it can only grow in greenhouses in the Monastery, and we know GM's greenhouse is somehow, powered bymagic. So maybe the CoS members are trying to teach to the Galatea peeps how to make magical greenhouses, or use magic to make plants grow?

Tl;Dr : Church BaD because they didn't share their magic(tech?) that make vegetables grow in poor soils and only do so when they are invited to :(

[haxo-wolfie]

some more claymore memes!! more below the cut

[meowmeowmessi]

[crabbarts]

what if I clothing-swapped LL anisa and claymore anastasia,, thoughts to be thunk

[r26yz]

a break from exam…

also, who the hell planted a stinky ass giant flower on a greenhouse?

[fangirl39]

[twistedtriptych]

Miss Violet, what are your first impressions of the other guests? (whichever ones you want to mention!)

[raincoonparade]

Galatea

Since MD and Allister like to rant, talk and explain things... I gave them the task to tell you about a little project I'm working on! I hope they've explained it good enough, I'm not sure of how to talk about it haha...

Links:

Beetlepache's talk

Galatea's blog

Wattpad

Archive of our own

[chocolateflavoredcrow]

Bet. Can’t tag all, I have a lot.

Good evening, Tumblr user.

In front of you is a post asking everyone to list their favorite female Blorbos in the tags, stating that OP is tired of the focus on men in fandom.

You must participate and tag all of your favorite female characters.

If you include any characters who were canonically written as male in your tags regardless of reason, the reverse bear trap attached to your head will activate.

Begin.

[muralconservator]

I just need to get through school then I can get Sirius....

[bloodygnqv]

Oh Say Can You See

John Price x fem reader

cw: smut!! minors dni!, size difference (reader is described as small but dw there’s no infantilization), uuuh i think that’s it??

A/N: fuck the national anthem it’s a lana song. it’s been a while since i’ve written smut hope you enjoy anyway bless you all xx 🙏🏻

“Are you okay, love?” John asks you from where you’re laying on your side.

He’s all warmth and comfort, musk and tobacco and leather, a stark contrast between the feminine fruits and spring flowers and candy you enjoy wearing.

His voice is a quiet rumble, the crackle of a fireplace, the roar of an engine, the step on snow.

“Mhm, yeah,” you reply, sleepy and pliant, “Just really missed you.”

John lays on his side as well, cuddling you from behind. He’s always been the bigger spoon, arms and hands so large, so strong he can fully wrap them around your waist, cup your breasts in his palms, keep you to himself. His greed for you and your affection lodges in his throat.

You can feel him hardening against your back, and you stifle a small smile. “Go ahead, John, I’ve been waiting all day,” you whisper, your own desire sparkling in your belly, black milk and rose red and the veil of longing.

“God, you’re soaking. That needy pussy just needs some attention, huh?” His fingers slide against your slit gently as you whimper an affirmative and lift your leg a bit to give him access.

“I can take you, John, really, you can just slide in,” you mumble, stroking at his thigh greedily.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? You’re so small and I haven’t prepped you, you know it might hurt…”

Concern laces his voice like poison ivy. It almost makes you melt — he’s always been like this from the moment you two got together, soft care and love so strong it almost suffocates you.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I played with myself earlier..”

“Okay then,” he permits. He taps the head of his dick over your pussy, still not going in, syrupy whines escaping your throat.

And then his cock notches at your leaky entrance, slowly going in, and every little nag and annoying pesky thought hide somewhere in the back of your head.

“Oh,” you gasp and look down to where you two are connected.

John isn’t very long, but he’s thick, thick enough that you feel the stretch every single time you have sex. He carves out a place for himself in you, Galatea and Pygmalion, gentle marble across your legs (his large hands completely envelop the expanse of your thighs, leaving galaxy marks in his wake).

“Yeah,” John breathes, heavy, grunting out a response, “That’s it. Almost there, love, you can take it. Shit, you’re tight…”

You mewl, hands scraping for purchase against the duvet as he runs his fingers through your hair, his beard tickling your neck, whispering cotton candy filth in your ear. You know he’s already pushed in as you feel his heavy balls snug against your ass.

“There you go. Feels good, eh?”

“It does,” you whimper. There’s the slightest touch of too much, tiniest specks of pain, but they’re quickly chased away by the time John starts thrusting lazily. You’re not gonna last long, and if John’s satisfied grunts are anything to go by, he isn’t, either.

You grab his thick arm from where it’s perched over the gentle curve of your waist, delicate wrist teasing the underside of his palm and intertwining your fingers.

You’ve never felt more at home. You’re exactly where you need and want to be, ballad-like moans and late comfortable nights, devoted eyes and lust as a virtue. John’s filling you up just right, quenching the thirst that has simmered in you all day, pushing you off the edge.

John’s other hand reaches around and starts playing with your clit, just enough pressure in circles to bring you over the edge. He always goes the extra mile when it comes to expressing his love through pleasure, making your legs shake, newborn fawn, you are, seeing constellations and new planets beneath your eyelids.

“I’m gonna cum,” you murmur.

“Go ahead, baby. I missed you so, so much, my beautiful girl,” John rasps, peppering small kisses on the canvas of your neck.

There it is — the explosion of feeling and love and pleasure in your tummy, crawling down your legs and up your arms, making you moan and fist the sheet under your body.

Your orgasm pushes John to the edge, and you can feel his spend spilling in the crevice of your cunt, loud groans echoing in the corners of your ears, arms tightening around your small frame. That’s his favorite place to cum in, warm velvet around him, all that love that burns like a motor in his skin.

John pulls out slowly and lovingly cleans you up as your consciousness slips away from you. It’s been a long, long day, and the great sex is but your favorite way to release tension and put you in that space between wake and sleep.

The afterglow sneaks its way in your vein as you lay across John’s thick, hairy chest and close your eyes. This is your favorite time of day, all warm and snug and happy.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

His caress always feels like a blanket, a balm to soothe your wounds, a hazy morning dream you don’t want to wake up. It makes you all the more grateful, lying with the man you love in a space you two made.