#recommendations are wide open i need more of my wife

[microwavablefork]

i just finished. bbc sherlock. there is nothing left for me now.

[cheriladycl01]

Could you fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader? They're on vacation during the winter and she's cold, so she take a water bottle and cradle it. Nando saw it and felt jelly and left out🤭 I don't know if it make sense. Add something else to it if it's not right. Thanks!! :))

Finland Freeze - Fernando Alonso x WifeReader

Plot: Fernando decided to take you on a ski trip, however after testing out the bunny slopes and multiple falls you need to go back to the log cabin for some warmth, however Fernando feels as though he should be that warmth instead!

"Come on. It's not that hard!" your husband Fernando laughed from the bottom of the small hill. You look down at him, from up here the slope looked huge.

There was multiple kids going past you, throwing themselves into the activity while you stayed there apprehensively.

"Come on mi amor!" he shouts up to you. You take a few more seconds before starting pushing yourself down the slope on the ski's. You start to speed up and you try leaning into the turn but end up just plopping down into the icy slope. You look up, pulling your goggles up seeing your husband laughing at you with his hands on his knees.

A dad laugh.

You got up quickly rubbing the snow away from your now probably bruised bum. You start up again, taking the turns a little slower and manage to get down to your husband with only 2 more slip ups.

As you neared him, he opened his arms wide as if you were a toddler coming towards him. You however didn't fully slow to a stop, and end up falling in between his legs taking him down with you.

"Offph, I know when i married you I said till death do us part... but your taking that very seriously!" he jokes looking over you before helping you up from the snowy floor.

"Your the one who got me to come to Finland with you! I would have happily spent my winter in Dubai, or Australia!" you comment, pulling him into a hug.

The next few times and he comes down the hill with you, holding your hand and making sure to balance you back out when you start to skid.

After a few more hours, your getting too cold, your cheeks fully red and not enjoying the dropping temperatures. You say that you'll go back to the cabin on the ski resort to warm up while Fernando goes on the big slopes with his personal trainer.

You get in, changing from the damp skiing gear you were sporting and wrapping a dressing gown around you while you shove it all in the washing machine.

You quickly make your way over to the bathroom getting in the warm shower and rinsing of your body, keeping it on a warm temperature to try and warm up the furthest bits of your body.

You stayed there for at least 45 minutes, where you fingers slowly started to resemble prunes. You put on joggers and a hoodie of your husbands and some big fluffy socks. You make you way down to the living area turning the kettle on immediately. You grab the matches and light the wood inside the fireplace that Fernando had put there the previous night when you both realized you'd used most of it up.

Once the kettle has boiled you split the water, most of it going into the pink fluffy hot water bottle you'd conveniently taken with you, even though you'd been told you wouldn't need it. The other goes into making yourself a tea, using the last of the milk you guys had brought for the cup, noting you'd have to go to the little shop on the lodge sight later tonight.

You grab multiple unhealthy snacks that Fernando always held a grudge when he saw you lazing around on the sofa and his cheat day foods in hand on a random Wednesday.

You set yourself up on the sofa under a white fluffy blanket, nesting yourself down in between the large pillows. You hug the hot water bottle and turn on a new crappy rom-com in the Netflix recommended.

Fernando walks in the door, snow in his hair from the growing snow storm outside making you chuckle at his gruff entrance despite his small stature.

He walk over to you and leans down kissing your lips making you recoil away and bury down into your blankets more due to the coldness he brought.

"No kisses?" he asks looking at you with a tilted head and puppy dog eyes.

"You're cold hermoso" you smile shyly, not wanting to be rude but also wanting to keep warm.

"Hmmmm, i'll get changed and then you've got to let me in that bundle of warmth!" he exclaims before crossing over to the bedroom.

He comes back in a pair of shorts and t-shirt the outfit making your eyes widen shocked that he could even possibly be warm in that outfit. He starts to climb into your nest you've created pulling a random wrapper off you and into the little bin behind you both before he starts to undo all your hard work of keeping the warmth in.

"Mmmmm no please!" you complain hugging the water bottle closer trying to keep the warmth.

"I'm hurt mi amor! This bottle is a better source of heat than me? Your husband?" he asks looking over you and you want to nod you really do but his expression makes you just stay still as he starts to pull the blanket away from you. He lays down, re-wrapping the blanket around himself when he pulls your hot water bottle away.

You groan out a complain.

"Mmmm I'm better than this stupid bottle!" he says before snaking his hands up under your hoodie making you shiver and whine from how cold his hands are.

"Fernando!" you gasp when he fully flattens his hands on your back.

"We'll warm up soon" he smiles fully laying on your and hugging your body into his.

"I was warm until you showed up" you sigh starting to play with his hair that was under the blanket so your finger tips didnt get too cold.

Eventually the fire really kicked in and your body heats started to regulate meaning you were both warming each other up nicely now, to the point where you both fell asleep in your little nest of the sofa hugging each other with the soft voices from the next movie that had automatically played on in the back ground.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[imtryingbuck]

Wedding Day Round Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC!Theo

Summary: Bucky has to marry a woman who surprises him more and more as their story goes along.

Word count: 2,036

Warnings: angst. swearing. fluff.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

The look on the pastors face gave it away that he was judging them, a married couple who had only been married for half a year already renewing their vows? Someone must have messed up - his eyes went straight to Bucky. Of course he didn’t understand what they were trying to tell him, their ‘wedding’ wasn’t anything special not by a long shot and now they wanted to redo it. It was Wanda that told them to do a vow renewal.

Instead of getting a wedding planner they gave the job to Wanda after she begged them to let her to do it, they ended up saying yes yet Wanda made sure that neither one of them knew what she was doing, she said she knew them well enough to know what they would want. Theo smiled at her words whilst Bucky squinted his eyes.

The bridal shop caused Theo to have a small panic attack. So many dresses with different patterns and styles, they were all beautiful but she didn’t know which one she wanted, she didn’t want to ruin them by wearing them - her insecurities getting the better of her. The owner could see her apprehension so took a few gowns off the racks that she thought Theo would like, the only problem was that all the dresses picked had an open back which meant that people were going to see her scars. That thought alone caused her breathing to pick up. Trying on the dresses there was only two that she really liked, Wanda and Nat were so encouraging the whole time, one of them dresses had both of their jaws dropping and telling her that, that was the one. And she had to agree, it was perfect.

“Sam’s demanding me to have a bachelor party.” Bucky sighed as he climbed into bed one night after a long day of business meetings.

“Like in The Hangover?”

“Probably will.”

“You can’t!” Theo panicked, putting the book down on the bedside table she looked at Bucky with wide eyes.

“I can’t drink at my own bachelor party? You’ll probably be drinking at your bachelorette party.” He said amused.

“What?”

“What?”

“You’ll wake up on a roof of some hotel and you’ll be late to our wedding!”

“Wait… oh fuck, you mean the film!” He was so confused until it hit him. Steve recommended the trilogy to Theo and it quickly became one of her favourite films, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought- never mind. But I promise you pretty girl I won’t wake up on a roof of some hotel… it’ll probably be Sam.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“That I’d have a hangover from drinking.”

“Oh.” She giggled softly.

Bucky practically dragged himself across the large bed over towards her, pulling her onto his lap and gently pressing his lips to hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His heart soars every time he hears those words fall from her lips. Kissing her passionately and heatedly, when he breaks the kiss due to her needing air he sets a trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, a smile tugs at his lips as he does so as she giggles.

“B-Buck, you said you were tired!”

“When did I say that, pretty girl?”

“The second you came home, ‘my names Bucky and I’m tired. I’m so tired that I can fall asleep right here on the floor’” Bucky ceased his attack on her neck and collarbone to pull back to look her in the eyes. Both of them squinting their eyes at each other, waiting, daring the other one to crack first and burst out laughing like they knew they wanted to do.

“Firstly, I do not sound like that!”

“Yes you do!”

God he loved how cheeky she was! He let her win by laughing at her ever so failed attempt at trying to copy his voice.

“Anyway! And secondly, I’m never too tired to pleasure my beautiful wife.” He winked, pressing a delicate kiss to her nose, before flipping them over and making her release those beautiful sounds she makes just for him.

Throughout his bachelor party he was messaging Theo, even though he had seen her that morning he couldn’t help but miss her. Nat and Wanda had planned something simple yet perfect for her. A spa day. Theo obviously had never been before so she was nervous and asking all sorts of questions, despite her nerves she was excited to go.

Bucky choked on his drink when he received a text from her saying that they had put stones on her back and because they were cold she nearly fell off the bed. He knew he shouldn’t have laughed but he couldn’t get the image of her nearly falling from the bed because of it.

“Buck off your phone.”

“No.”

“James!”

“Steven!”

“We’re playing cards and you’re losing.”

“That’s alright.” He shrugged, the whole time he spoke to Steve not once did he look up from his phone, to busy talking to Theo.

“Steve leave him alone, our little man’s getting married tomorrow… again… to the same woman.” Sam smiled hugely at Bucky when he looked over at him. “And plus, he’s losing and I’m getting his money.”

“He’s all grown up now.”

“We did such a great job at raising him, didn’t we Stevie?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at his two best friends as they continued being a pair of twats - his words not mine! - yet he couldn’t help but smiling at seeing Theo tomorrow as she walked down the aisle, being able to say vows, being announced as husband and wife.

On the other side of the city Theo was looking wide eyed at Nat who was in the pool looking back at her with the exact same expression, as she held a crying Wanda in her arms.

“Wand, what’s wrong?” Nat asked worriedly, everything was fine, perfect even until Wanda burst out crying.

“W-when we met you Theo, you was so shy and so scared of everything an-and now you’re not shy or scared, you laugh, you smile, you talk a-and watching you become your own person after what those bastards did, I-I’m so fucking proud of you and to call you my friend.” Wanda all but wailed the last words, gripping Theo a little bit tighter.

“Oh fuck.” Theo looked over to Nat and noticed that she was now crying too. “Wanda you’ve made me fucking cry now!” She climbs out of the pool and goes over to the two women, wrapping her arms around them both.

When a staff member came in, he slowly walked backwards and back out the door when he saw three crying women.

The dress was on. Her hair was done. Her shoes were being slid onto her feet by Wanda as Nat spritzed perfume on her; Martha was taking photos of the trio.

“You are so beautiful Theo.” Wanda said looking at her in the mirror.

“M-my back…”

“If anyone has a problem with your scars they’ll have me to deal with!” Nat spoke from the other side of Theo, hers and Wanda’s hands touching the scars, not phased by it.

A knock came from the door. “Who is it?” Wanda called out.

“It’s Matt, are you girls ready?”

“Are you ready?” She asked Theo, who nodded with a shy smile. “Come in.”

The second Matt saw Theo tears sprung to his eyes. “You look so beautiful Dory.”

“Thank you.”

“He’s waiting for you. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” She smiled up at her brother.

Everyone was in place as the music started playing - Theo’s eyes went wide at seeing a live orchestra in the garden. Wanda really had done an incredible job, seats with bow ribbons were neatly placed underneath the large gazebo, at the entrance were two large stone columns with huge bouquets of flowers on top.

The sun was shining. It was perfect.

Bucky’s eyes instantly lit up with tears as he laid on Theo. His heart began racing as she walked closer to him with her arm linked with Matts. Taking her hand in his the moment she was in reaching distance, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of James and Theodora, I believe that the two of you have written your own vows? James would you start?”

“Pretty girl, I had no idea that I could truly love someone until I met you. Meeting you wasn’t the way I wanted to but I’m glad we’re both here now. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, you are my heart my mind and soul. I swear to you that I will forever be by your side. I love you.”

“Theodora.” The pastor smiled at her, giving her a small head nod.

“Bucky, you’ve shown me that I can be loved and that I don’t have to live in fear and pain. You have given me a reason to live, and for that I am forever grateful to you. You are my heart my mind and soul. I swear to you that I will forever be by your side. I love you.”

“James do you take Theodora as your wife?”

“I do.” He takes the ring from Steve’s hand and slides it onto Theo’s finger.

“Theodora do you take James as your husband?”

“I do.” She takes the ring from Wanda’s hand and slides it onto Bucky’s finger.

“I know that you two are already legally married but I cannot help myself.” The pastor says with a chuckle. “I am proud to be the one to announce you as husband and wife. James you may kiss your bride.”

Bucky steps closer to her, his hands on her face whispering “I love you” as his lips cover hers in a sweet passionate kiss. The whole backyard erupts into loud cheers.

Standing by Bucky’s side Theo’s eyes moved along those who had attended most of them were Bucky’s men that she had never met before, his mom and sister were there, as her eyes went to the back row her breath got caught in her throat.

Michael.

He stood there giving her a sad smile. He knew that Jess would have hated him for everything he did and didn’t do, having his true love hate him had his heart aching but he knew he deserved it, he knew it was too late to turn back the clock and change things. Michael gave a small nod to his daughter before walking away.

Bucky hadn’t realised that her back was exposed until they were dancing, his eyes were wide as his hand felt the scars.

“I wanted to show everyone that I’m not afraid of them anymore.” She whispered, slightly embarrassed now that they were exposed.

“I’m so proud of you my love. So so proud.” He held her closer than before as they continued dancing.

The words he spoke were nothing but true. He was proud of how strong she was, he knew she was self-conscious about her scars but she wasn’t afraid of showing them off, she wasn’t afraid that more was going to be added to the collection. He was proud of who she had become in the time he had known her.

He knew Michael had shown up to their wedding, he wasn’t happy about it. The last time Bucky had seen the older man was when he shot him in his office - Bucky had every intention of killing Michael but he just couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take away Theo’s only living parent even if he deserved to die. It wasn’t fair to her. So Bucky shot him in the shoulder.

The sun had long gone down and was now replaced by a full moon, Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off Theo even if he tried, which he definitely didn’t.

Bucky had always thought about marriage, especially marrying the person he loved, and here he was dancing on the decorated patio with the love of his life in arms.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes @bellabarnes1378 @unaxv @skulliecadaver-blog @mrsnikstan @sebastians-love @pattiemac1 @julvrs @undf-stuff @violetwinterwidow01 @cjand10 @angrykitsune01 @drdbnkl2008

[its-time-to-write]

i know now it’ll pass - ch. 5

I think these last two chapters are my favorite🥲 Lmk with you all think of the series bc I crave validation!!! No such thing as too many comments🥺🥺

still miss you

It’s the worst. You’re working in Manchester of all places, and you really wish that you were somewhere else. But they paid the most and offered housing and were able to hire you within two and a half weeks of your breakup. Higgins wrote a glowing letter of recommendation, and just like that, you were gone. 

You’re going to miss your flat, you realize. You don’t even know who bought it. Doesn’t matter. They were willing to pay twice what it was worth as long as they were the offer you accepted.

It’s good that Jamie won’t see you around. Won’t have any lingering reminders. It’s good that you’re the one who ended things, because he won’t be able to blame himself for it. (He probably still will, you think, but you put that thought in a tiny box and put it on a shelf far away.) 

Jamie doesn’t see you, but you see him. You see him in photos on the wall and hear him in the local voices and wish you could have just accepted his love for a little while longer.

You watch every single one of his games and cheer when he makes a goal. Or a pass. Or anything, really. He’s started running like Roy Kent did at Chelsea, like he’s angry at the grass. At least his anger is channeled into something productive.

Your new flat faces the sun, and you’re on the steps all the time. It’s not standard housing, it’s a real actual flat that Man City bought for you. It’s not big but it’s clean and yours and has a real, actual garden in the back. You think that you can manage this until you meet your neighbors and realize you’re really and truly fucked and the universe hates you.

You met the husband, Simon, on one of your sleepless nights. It was still relatively early, just 1:30, but you could tell that you weren’t going to get much sleep. Dr. Sharon transferred you to someone in Manchester, but now you were awake for different reasons. Jamie’s face kept haunting you so you kept your eyes wide open. Some mornings you’d wake up under the weighted blanket and think that it was him, in your groggy haze. Then you’d blink a couple times and remember that you’d broken up.

So you don’t sleep much. And now you’re on the porch with a cup of the tea Jamie’s mum recommended so long ago, the strong smell steaming into the air. As you sit down on your chair (you have a chair now) you hear a soft voice say, “Lovely night, isn’t it?” You nod and look over to see your neighbor sitting on his chair as well on the lawn. 

“Sometimes I like to come out here and look at the stars,” he continues. “Can’t always see very many of them, but the fresh air is nice. I’m Simon, by the way.”

You nod again, give him your name, and sip your tea.

“Is that Sleep Plus by Twinings?” he asks. “I only ask because my wife swears by it. Has a cuppa every single night, so I’m well-acquainted with the smell.”

You smile. “Yeah, it is. A friend gave it to me. Said his mum loved it too. I have trouble sleeping, so…”

Simon nods. “Georgie, that’s my wife, used to have the same problem. Too many things on her mind, she said. But she’s been alright ever since we’ve been married. She says that it wasn’t really a chemical problem in her brain, but more the fact that she was always worried. Took me years to show her I wasn’t someone she needed to be worried around. But, I proved myself and here we are.” He chuckles fondly. “She’s upstairs snoring loud as can be.”

You sit in silence a while longer before Simon gets up and says, “Lovely to meet you. I’ll have Georgie invite you ‘round for tea sometime.”

Tea with your neighbors sounds wonderful until you walk into their flat and see pictures of Georgie’s son on the walls and on tables and on the fridge and in basically every possible space she can find. Simon mentions how he researched creative things to do with photographs because it “helps Georgie when she misses him,” and you know for an absolute fact that the universe has a personal hatred for you.

It has to, because why else would you have unwittingly gotten a flat right next to Jamie’s parents?

You force yourself to behave as normally as possible and thank them for a lovely meal. Georgie grabs your arm on the way out and says you ought to come over again some time. She hugs you and tells you she didn’t have a sparkle in her eyes at your age, either. She knows what it’s like and maybe you can have tea together tomorrow night, just the two of you. Talk about it and maybe you don’t have to struggle as much as she did.

You don’t smile at her, but she doesn’t mind. Georgie reaches out a hand to wipe away a tear and says, “Oh love. It’ll be alright. You’re not alone all the way out here. I miss my son something terrible and I can see you’re missing someone too. You’ve already made me feel better and I hope I can help you the way you’ve helped me. Good to have someone young around here.”

She’s smiling, and you realize she and Jamie have the same soft eyes.

Georgie hugs you tight again before you can bolt out the door. “You’re not alone, sweetheart,” she whispers. “You’ll be alright.”

—

Simon and Georgie are a godsend. Sure, you have to suffer their son staring down at you from his various portraits in the house, but you can talk to them. They’re like parents with the way Georgie hugs you and Simon is always bringing over excess baked goods. They’re always available to talk and listen, to laugh and sometimes, to cry.

Georgie tells you about her ex-husband one nights and it’s enough to make you sob. You tell her about your ex-boyfriend (the bad one) through gasps while she rubs your back and murmurs, “I’m right here, love.”

“How were you able to be with Simon?” you ask once you’ve calmed down. “I just can’t understand that. I’ve tried, I really have, but I was just waiting for him to get tired of me. And I’m not positive he ever would have.”

Georgie thinks for a moment. “I think I finally realized that James was not the standard for all men. He and Simon were very different, and Simon always showed me he respected me as a person. It took years of that, but here we are.” She laughs. “He’s a very patient man. Not many would put up with me and my Jamie.”

Jamie was patient. And funny. And the exact opposite of your ex. He’s confident with a touch of arrogance, but it’s the kind of confidence that’s contagious as opposed to oppressive. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and does things without expecting something in return. He likes to make you smile just for the sake of it, and you like to do the same.

You’re shaken from your reverie by Georgie saying, “That reminds me, Jamie’s coming into town this weekend. You should come over to meet him.”

She and Simon share a not-so-subtle glance that means you should date our son and become our actual daughter-in-law because you’re basically already ours, and that’s when you decide you’re going to be horribly ill.

“I’d love to,” you say out loud. “I’ll check my calendar.”

Table of Contents

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Disgraced Prince

CHAPTER FOUR: The Prince's New Consort

Featuring Prince Andrew, Duke of York

With details on Prince Andrew allegations emerge from newly unsealed Jeffrey Epstein documents this week. Making him now a virtual recluse, only venturing out to go horse-riding on the Windsor estate twice a week, or for the occasional swim. Watching tv in a tatty old robe, eating crisps and playing the five knuckle shuffle to memories of his "glory days". Wishing mummy could have gotten him out of his latest mistake yet again.

I decided to accelerate my plan to re-make his image to the public and have him come out as bi. Agreeing as the disgraced Prince of York was willing to go to any length possible to worm his way back into public life as a working royal. Even admitting that, but he's still a boobs-and-bum man. Even though he lives with his ex-wife Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, at Royal Lodge, she is not the optimal choice to get Andrew back in good graces with the public. And none of his old “gallery of crumpet” were suitable. Luckily, I was recommended a guy named Ethan Clarke, a flame-headed 28 year old with blue eyes, and a slender body.

When he arrived at Royal Lodge, he was led to the master suite where Andrew and I waited. Now standing in the middle of the room, Ethan was a a good looking man, in line with what you'd expect Andrew to be into in a man.

"Why don't you make yourself more… comfortable." I said as I motioned him towards where Andrew and I sat.

Smiling, Ethan strutted up to us and slowly removed his shirt and laid across a nearby chair. Then he loosened his belt as he took off his shoes by putting the toe of one foot on the heel of the other and pushing them off. Finally, he let his pants fall to his feet as his cock tented out his jockeys. And as he slipped them down, I watched a broad grin appear on Andrew's face staring at his wonderful dick. All six inches of it pointed at the ceiling and was framed by his fire crotch as he spun around, like a dancer, showing off his bubble butt. Andrew was just staring at his beautiful body as I could tell he was overcome with lust that his crotch was tenting out.

"Nice ass."

Ethan grinned as he told Andrew, "It's all yours, Your Highness."

"But how good are you at sucking cock?" Andrew said as Ethan approached the prince. And without waiting for answer, Andrew unzipped his slants and pulled out his cock.

Looking at me, I gave Ethan a nod of approval before he slid to his knees between Andrew's wide spread legs and grabbing the prince's cock in his hands. Then as he looked up into Andrew's blue eyes, pulled back the hood and quickly began sucking Andrew's cock down into his throat.

"Bloody hell, that feels good." The prince called over to me.

He took a sip vodka he was holding in his left hand as young man started swallowing more and more of his dick while looking up into Andrew's blue eyes.

"Take it all. Show me how good a cocksucker you are." The prince said as he put his free hand on the back of Ethan's head and pulled his face against his crotch.

For the next 15 minutes, Ethan deep throated his cock, relishing the feel of his dick as it slid down his throat until his mouth was pressed against the fly of Andrew's slacks. It was amazing to watch Ethan work his skills over Andrew. All while Andrew was being his rude, gauche, insensitive self, making anal sex jokes. It went on and on until I told him to finish Ethan off.

"Yes Your Highness. Fuck me. Fuck me now. Please, Andrew. I need to be fucked." Ethan begged as he lay on his back on the near by couch.

I enjoyed how he manhandled Ethan, lifting his legs up and slapping his ass really hard, groping it firmly. I tossed Andrew some lube, which he smeared all over his cock before smearing it Ethan's opening and slipped his finger in his ass. I grabbed Ethan's legs and held them high as I watched Andrew aim his hard-on at his puckered ass hole. Ethan's chest heaved with lust filled anticipation as the head of Andrew's dick entered his hot passion-tunnel without any resistence.

"Lets see how good your bum can take my fat cock." Andrew said with lust-filled eyes as he began to pull his cock out slowly and then drive it slowly back up Ethan's ass.

His eyes closed and a sigh escaped from his mouth as Andrew's first thrust hit home. Ethan held my gaze and squealed with delight as Andrew leaned really hard over, crushing him under his hairy belly, grinding into him slow and deliberately. I could tell he was in Ethan good and deep. Each time Andrew thrust into him, pre-cum would squirt from the tip of Ethan's cock. Andrew reached down and scooped it up with his finger, brought it to Ethan's mouth as he quickly sucked it in.

After about 20 strokes, Ethan's ass opened up and Andrew began to shuttle faster in and out of his wonderful ass. He was panting and looking at me with a hungry desire, like I was a meal and he was starving. I noticed his body glistening with sweat with the occasional droplet hitting the young man beneath him. Ethan was really moaning now as Andrew fucked him really hard, his moans increasing with each thrust the prince delivered.

"Give it to him Andrew. Fill that tight young ass with all that hot cum." I cheered as Andrew began to really put it to him.

By now the room was steaming and filled with the sounds of Andrew's balls slamming against Ethan's ass, his cries of being fucked, Andrew's groans and my cheers of approval.

Watching the two men going at it caused me to get so excited that my dick popped up. Suddenly I had to join in on the fun. I went the side of the bed and slipped my cock into Ethan's willing mouth as I grabbed Ethan's feet and held them wide open for Andrew's hard pounding. I noticed Andrew began to pound faster and his face began to screw up in lust as he neared his release. In no time, Ethan grabbed the bed sheets, bucking like a untamed horse in orgasm and shot jism onto his belly.

The contraction of Ethan's ass on Andrew's pistoning dick while he went through his orgasm brought prince's own climax. Andrew bellowed like a bull as he dropped his cum deposit deep in Ethan's ass. Just then, I pulled out of Ethan's mouth and shot a big load on his face.

After leaving what must have been a big load in Ethan's ass, Andrew pulled out and I heard his cock make a wet pop as it left my popped cherry.

"He is a good fuck." Andrew said and broke into peals of laughter.

Later after Ethan left and Andrew had cum in him two more times, His Royal Highness told me he'd do nicely before I dropped a few loads into him. But that's for a later story.

[viralarcadian]

more golden sun tips

1. the game wants you to keep track of how many djinn a character has on standby when you're gearing up for a summon. you can lose spells mid battle bc you used enough djinn that your character went down a rank and that shit sucks.

ostensibly this is supposed to be a risk v reward thing to prevent you from spamming summons at every boss battle, but in practice this is really only a problem to worry about when you're doing optional stuff like crossbone isle and the endgame superbosses in TLA, and if your designated healer loses their good healing psynergy (eg jenna's basic class loses access to the party-wide aura healing psynergy if more than 4 djinn go to standby/recovery, so if she's your healer you NEED to keep track)

2. i do in fact recommend the optional stuff, especially in TLA because the best summons are locked behind those superbosses.

3. in TLA you're gonna find a bunch of shit like tear stones and sylph feathers that have "forgeable" in their item descriptions and the game does not tell you what this means. i will.

you give these to a character named sunshine in the town of yallam on oseania, after you get the boat. you give these to him one at a time, and he will turn them into weapons and armor for you. what you get is completely random, as several things can be forged from the same material, and it auto saves when you give him the item to prevent save scumming, at least in the original game. the switch has suspend points that you can use to save scum.

sunshine's wife says it'll take a while for him to finish, but leaving town and re-entering or spending a night at the inn will get it done instantly.

there are also several rusty weapons that will always give you the same result when you give them to him.

4. some djinn in both games can be found in the actual overworld map and encountered as monster spawns. the game does not tell you this explicitly. lucky for you, they have very specific areas of the map that they will spawn in. i highly recommend looking up guides with pictures.

5. make getting djinn your top priority, especially in the first game. not only do they give you stat boosts and increase the rank of your class, and not only do you get sick summons and effects from using them in battle, but to get the absolute best summon in TLA you NEED to transfer a save over from the first game with all 28 of those djinn, bc you need those 28 plus the 44 in TLA to even access the dungeon it's in.

6. the superboss guarding the best summon is the cheapest motherfucker on planet earth. he will use your djinn against you and tear you up like tissue paper

But! he is in theory beatable. he follows a set sequence of moves, only differing in very specific circumstances (skipping 'break' if you don't have stat buffs, 'haunt' if everyone is haunted, and using psynergy at all if he's been blocked). he will start the battle from somewhere in that sequence, and then go thru each action in turn

the wiki has an exceptionally good page on him including strategies to beat him and the complete sequence of moves he uses. use it.

7. use that wiki in general. it's the good one that isn't on fandom

8. if you open up the battle mode lobby in TLA and talk the NPC in the southwest corner while holding down either the L or R buttons (she's the one that says "i like my men macho"), instead of her usual dialog she'll say "you have a song request?" and a tiny menu will open up. congratulations! this is the game's sound test menu. if a track has played at least once on the file you used to enter the lobby, you can play it here! even more if it's one that has transfer info from the first game!

this has no use at all but this effectively turns your switch into an mp3 player that only plays golden sun music, and was the only way to listen to the soundtrack before yt and if you couldn't find a site that had ripped it and put it up for download

[crystalstunes]

crystal's tunes #1 - Hex Dealer by Lip Critic (2024)

for the first album to talk about on this new blog, why not go with the most recent album i've been loving, namely Lip Critic's debut studio album Hex Dealer. i first heard of these guys late last year, and was immediately intrigued by their unconventional instrumentation - two samplers, and two live drummers. in anticipation for the album i listened to their previous releases countless times, and since the album's release back in May its been one of my most streamed albums of the last month.

the opening track, It's The Magic, immediately sets the vibe with a comparatively slow and long track (4.5 minutes as opposed to the album's average of 2.5), but this works very well to ease you into the unique sound on display here. bret's vocals are absolutely fantastic on this album, providing a raw, punk energy to every track, but it never becomes *too* much. they know when to pull back and give a quieter performance before absolutely yelling one final chorus to pack an extra punch.

the real highlight of this album though is the production. the combination of distorted samples (though never straying into harsh noise territory) along with the two live drum tracks offer you a wide variety of textures and rhythms that never lose your attention. this is probably the most inspiring and creatively produced album i've heard this year, its completely unlike anything else i've heard recently and is bursting with enough energy to get you absolutely locked in - it's been my soundtrack for when my brain needs a jumpstart all month. every single element here is just so satisfying to listen to, like the audio equivalent of popping bubblewrap. destructive and chaotic, but simultaneously thought out and carefully considered.

these lyrics are surprisingly catchy too, with the choruses of singles Milky Max and In The Wawa (Convinced I Am God) being major earworms. they also don't stay too serious with this album's lyricism, often going for absurdist or surreal scenarios as opposed to personal introspection, especially on My Wife and the Goblin, a song about his wife and the goblin and how his son and the mailman want to kill him with bombs. its an utterly ridiculous concept for a track, but its so well-constructed that it just works effortlessly.

(tw: flashing images from 1:30)

there are darker moments on the album however, such as the first half of Sermon, which feels like you're being surrounded by a suffocating stormcloud and offers a brief moment of respite from the fast-paced madness, before going into a frantic breakdown with deliberately strained vocals launching you into the back half of the album.

the combination of highly sythesized instruments and percussion including breakbeat loops combined with the live dual drumming helps create a unique sound on every track, with each song taking on its own distinct identity despite often sharing some common qualities. from rapid arpeggiators to gritty bass tones, soft keys to vocal samples, theres never a dull moment here. Lip Critic have created an explosion of creative, colourful and crushing music and compressed it into a 32-minute blast of intensity and energy, and they're shoving it directly into your bloodstream.

if you check out the album and wanna hear more, i highly recommend their previous project Lip Critic II (technically their first "album", though it's more like a mixtape), as well as their EPs Lip Critic: Truth Revealed and Kill Lip Critic, especially the song Entry Level Stud (a song about getting your kidneys stolen while trying to get an ear piercing at Claire's).

stream the album!

[felice-jaganshi]

Alastor's Leash

Chapter 6

(Time for Radiostatic flashbacks!!!)

Zariah sighed and shook her arms, trying to shake off her nerves. She always felt uncomfortable passing the Vee's tower. But now she was going inside. Lucifer took one of her hands.

“Hey, I'm here for you. You got this.” He gave her a reassuring smile. She took another deep breath and steadied herself. 

“Yeah, I got this.” She gave his hand a squeeze before letting go and walking forward. As they entered the lobby, they were greeted by Velvette.

 

“Your majesty, it's an honor to make your acquaintance. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Her tone was full of sass, clearly not happy either of them were there.

 

“I came to see Vox. I have something important to discuss with him.” Zariah said, and Velvette rolled her eyes.

“Look, I don't give a shit what's happened to Alastor. But Vox is not in the mood for guests. So I suggest you turn your bushy, frizzy tails around and leave! Orange is such an ugly fucking color!” 

Zariah bristled at the insult to her fur, and Lucifer was quick to put hands on her shoulders to calm her down. “Whoa! Hey, hey, how about I just take a look at some of your new designs? I have a new wife, and she just looooves fashion! I was hoping to surprise her with something… unique?”

 

Velvette raised an eyebrow, “Alright, if you'll both join me, then I guess it's fine.” 

They both followed her to her fashion floor of the tower. Once there, Lucifer took all her attention, while Zariah wandered the room, she eventually found a security camera and stared directly into it, waiting for any sign of Vox paying attention…

Eventually she felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. 

“Hey… I wanna talk about Al. Just you and me.” She kept her voice low, barely audible, trusting him to read her lips more than anything. After that, the elevator opened up on its own, and she stepped inside.

 _-_-_-_-_-_-

(Begin tatu's song "perfect enemy" for the full effect i was going for)

“Why should I welcome you into my tower? You've got thirty seconds to explain why I shouldn't kill you.”

 

“Alastor needs you. You used to be friends once, you could be that again.” She pulled something out of her pocket. She'd taken it from Alastor's room. It was a torn picture of vox.

His eyes went wide, “He… he kept it?”

 

“Yes, he did. He kept it in the same drawer as the gift I'd gotten him. Meaning he values it as much as me. Now if you don't help rescue him, he's going to die, and you'll never get the chance to hold this over his head!” She knew she'd be in deep shit with Al for this, he might even call off their engagement… but if it kept him alive, it'd be worth it. Vox turned his chair away from her, staring at his shark tank, expression unreadable. 

__________

 

Alastor groaned, agony wracking his body. If he could bleed to death, he surely would have already. But, being a powerful sinner came with the drawback of not being that easy to kill or destroy. There would be no escape via regeneration for him. Just constant pain until he broke. That was Her game after all, and why he'd been gone for seven years before too. That's how long it took the first time. Unfortunately, since the time between then and now was so short, he doubted he could last seven years this time. He gave himself one, to be generous.

 

Old memories surfaced, fond ones… he let his mind wander to them as a temporary escape from the pain.

_______

~The past~ (recommended songs: "loves me not" by tatu followed by "30 minutes" also by tatu)

Vox was bitching and screaming, “That fucking Zestial thinks he's so damn special just because he's the oldest overlord?! Well, one day, you and I are gonna be the strongest overlords! That'll teach him some fucking respect! Then we'll take him out.” He had a smirk on his big crt-tv face, and threw an arm around Alastor, who had been content to just listen to him bitch and moan.

 

“Hm, yes. One day they will all fear us, mon ami.” He had a soft smile on his face. “They will bow before the media demons.”

 

“Wanna go snipe some easy soul deals? I heard there's a new war on earth at the moment, so there should be a lot of weaklings pouring in we can trick. Like fish in a barrel.” Vox kept his tone chill, just enjoying time with his favorite person.

 

Alastor chuckled and removed Vox's arm from his shoulders, “What a splendid idea! A rare thing for you to have.” His words were light and playful. A light jab with no real venom to it.

 

“Hey, I got plenty of good ideas!” Vox huffed, “You're just too old fashioned to appreciate all of them.” He then went back to smiling and put his arm back around Al's shoulders, only for it to be removed again.

“Not in public, my friend. I'll indulge your need for touch in private.” Alastor said with a side eye. He was chastising him gently, like a child. But Vox couldn't be happier.

_______

 

Another memory, years later. Vox sat next to Alastor on their couch, Al looking at the newspaper. “Hey Al, mind if we talk for a minute? I had another crazy idea.” He was grinning ear to ear, his screen thinner than it used to be.

 

“Hm, what is it, mon ami?” He folded up the paper and set it in his lap.

Vox put an arm around Alastor's shoulders, “Can I tell you who I have a crush on?”

Alastor immediately froze, he had one question before jumping to conclusions, giving Vox one “out”... “Are you drunk, Vox?”

“Nope, completely sober. Al, I want us to be more than teammates. I want us to be life partners. Please, hear me out, nothing really needs to change just‐”

 

“If nothing needs to change, why the need for a new name for what we have?! You know I have no interest in men! I never have!” Alastor stood from the couch.

 

“Al, Al!” Vox stood too, trying to follow him, “Come on man, you haven't shown interest in anyone, man or woman in all the years you've been in hell with me! I just… I thought maybe what we had was special. You're just so… I need you in my life Al, please.” He tried to reach out, only for Alastor to lash out with his claws!

___________

~Present day~

 

Vox turned back around in his chair, looking Zariah dead in the eyes. “You're special to him, aren't you? What do you call your relationship with him?” He was jealous. Of course he was, she had what he wanted.

 

“We're queer platonic life partners. Rosie was a big help in helping him understand his feelings. He got really mad at me at first, thinking I was trying to trap him into a relationship he didn't want. But she calmed him down and made him see reason, that I didn't want him to do anything special, just be my friend that I sometimes cuddle…”

Vox glared at her, sending out wires to wrap around her neck, squeezing. “You fucker. I can't fucking stand your face. You managed to get everything I wanted! It's not fucking fair!! And then, you go and take Valentino from me too?! Why?! Why can't either of you let me be fucking happy?!?”

 

Zariah gripped at the cables, trying to yank them away, “V-val was‐ n-nothing to do with you! I- can get- you back in! Get Al to-” the wires lifted her off the ground and threw her into a wall. 

“No, what's the real difference between us? Is it because you're an angel? Or is it because you're a woman?” 

“The difference? Really?” She looked at him from the floor, “I'm weak and pathetic, that's what's different. He made a deal with me, and owns my soul completely. I'll do whatever it takes to protect him. Even if it kills me, and he knows it. He can feel my resolve and I'm pretty sure it scares him how much I love him. He would have lashed out and hurt me if he could in the beginning. But I refused to let him push me away.”

She stood back up on her feet. “I can get you his friendship back. Anything further is on you, but I'm okay sharing him with you as long as you don't fucking hurt him.”

 

“ ME?! You're afraid I'll hurt him?! Honey, it's more likely to be the other way around.” He growled at her.

 

Suddenly the door burst open! Velvette and Lucifer stood in the doorway. 

“What the shit is going on here?!” She snapped, marching towards Zariah, only to be blocked by Vox's cables. “Vox?” She looked over at him, worried.

He ignored Velvette, eyes focused on Zariah…

“So, what's our stupid rescue plan?”

[ensignsimp]

[Please feel free to ignore this if ya like]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to start up a Star trek x reader blog? I'm pretty new to it, don't know too much, but steadily catching up an the series.

The thing that's giving me the most grief is that I don't know enough lore to feel confident enough to start writing about anything with the characters ._.)

Ensign Simp Advice Column:

How to Write x Readers

Finding the right formula for writing x readers can be difficult. As authors we have a distinct habit of putting ourselves into our works. However in this case you should try to remain as neutral as possible. Remember that you are an outside observer. Similar to a video game you are creating a world for your player/reader to interact with, just on a more limited scale almost like Mad Libs.

For new people writing x readers, here are the main points you should take away:

Gender

For anyone starting an x reader blog I always recommend keeping the reader Gender Neutral (GN) and Gender Non-Conforming (GNC). This helps a wide sweep of readers be able to better connect with who they are in the story. Many x readers are written in a hetero-normative structure. This isn't the writers fault most of the fan fiction we read today was started by women and feminine people in the 60s.

And a lot of fan fiction is written by feminine people as a way to cope with the crap dating pool that they're in. The men in our fandoms are basically our new Ken Dolls. We can project our own desires and needs on to them. Writers and readers can take comfort in knowing that we are safe because no real harm is being done, it's just make believe.

However, as an evolving culture, we as a fandom need to embrace the variety in gender and break up gender norms. This is why keeping the reader's gender neutral is a good way to break that norm. Also it allows your readers to connect more when their are options to choose from, example: "Good (boy/girl/gender neutral pet name)." Using "they" is much easier in the sentence structure because it is grammatically correct when you don't know the definitive gender of a person.

They walked along the beach holding (insert random character)'s hand. "I love you so much, my dear (husband/wife/partner)." (Character) said lovingly. "I love you too." They said.

If a gender is specified make sure your label it clearly! This helps readers navigate which writings they may like more. I personally only do it on request. It is also why I don't do pregnancy plots or end with "they lived happily ever after with two kids, a dog, house, and white picket fence. THE END"

Appearances and Race

Just like gender race is always an issue in writing x readers. We will try to compensate with trying to add descriptions like:

"She had (long/short) (hair color) and sparkling (eye color) orbs."

However, descriptions don't give a personality! As a Pansexual myself I love people for who they are and not what they are. This has benefited my writing over the years because I was able to break out of the mold of "you must be aesthetically pleasing in order to be loved by this person" in my writing. Remember that all of your readers come in different shapes, sizes, colors, backgrounds, and neuro-divergence.

We have lots of people of color who write and read fan fiction. So make sure your are leaving the door open by not describing the appearance of the reader but the personality! Allowing your reader to mentally roleplay. If you want to tell the reader how beautiful they are (which all readers are beautiful), try something like this.

"I've always been insecure about how I look." They said looking down shyly. "I've always thought you were beautiful. I love your laugh, the way you bite your lip when you're thinking, and how you look at me with such love and devotion. I thought I would never get the chance to be with someone as amazing as you." (Character) said taking their hands.

Describe little things that could be about anyone. Keep it open, keep it loose, and don't pigeon hold yourself into something. Remember that this is an open audience, character appearance customization is for visual mediums.

Characterization

Having a good personality for your character will be important. You don't want to make the reader "the perfect protagonist" but as we know this is a way to help people cope with their own insecurities and issues. But give them realistic issues such as anger issues, social anxiety (not just selective social anxiety), recklessness, impulsivity, SOMETHING THAT ISN'T A PERFECT FLAW!

"Perfect" Flaw Examples:

They care too much

Clumsy

Shy

(Insert Disney Princess Flaw Here)

That is why when making an x reader you should make the reader a flexible as possible but yet give them realistic obstacles and problems. Maybe the reader has anger issues or has a fear of intimacy.

Interesting Flaw Examples:

Childish

Competitive

Impulsive

Indecisive

Jealous

Paranoid

Socially Awkward

Stubborn

ALSO REMEMBER THAT BEING AUTISTIC OR NEURODIVERGENT IS NOT A FLAW!

Give them fears and problems that are relatable to a lot of people and are plot relevant. Try not to give them a specific niche fear (again unless by request and you have it labeled). Remember that your reader will be more interested in the story, if they are interesting. Especially in longer stories than a short one-shot!

Setting

DO RESEARCH ON YOUR SETTING YOU ARE IN!

Unless it is an AU (can't stress labeling), make sure to do research on the time period, world lore, and settings before making up stuff. New writers may not know certain lore but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't do research. If you are writing fan fiction you obviously have access to the internet or someway off connecting to it. USE IT!

For example I had a request for a character I didn't know. So I went on YouTube and looked them up. I watched a couple of videos and decided I liked the character enough to write for them. So I borrowed my friend's box set of the show I was going to write for.

I watched a couple of episodes, looked up everything about them online through fandom wikis, chat rooms, and lore (videos, articles, and other fan creations), then I started to write for the character.

To me, being new to a fandom is no longer an excuse for why you are not able to look up information. It doesn't just stop in high school. You'll still need to research things, BEFORE YOU WRITE ABOUT THEM!

Plot

Start with the action, I know I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, and ate breakfast. WHAT AM I DOING AND WHY SHOULD I CARE? Explain what am I doing, what is happening, and what is at stake!

If you don't have a plot idea look up other fan fictions about that character, if there are none, look up prompts to use. Make sure to ask or tag someone in the prompt or inspiration you pull from. This helps other writers get their work noticed, while also sharing in the love of the character and writing.

Make sure everything you write about it plot relevant!

And the most important:

Establish Boundaries

Make sure you have a list of rules for your blog and your writing preference. Make a list of things that you do and do not write for.

EXAMPLE

This helps readers understand what they can and can't ask for.

REMEMBER THAT FAN FICTION WRITERS ARE NOT PAID!

THEY DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE YOUR REQUEST IF THEY DON'T WANT TOO!

[kallard]

Memories of What Was

I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing.

((The following contains subject material that may be triggering to some. Themes included are suicide, violent murder and vulgar language. Read at your own discretion.))

((Recommended listening: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1KulUN1SOU ))

My mother, gods rest her soul, was a good person. Whenever sis and I were fighting or one of us got hurt, she’d swoop in and make everything better with hugs, kisses and comforting words. She had dedicated her life to raising us proper so that we wouldn’t have to suffer as she did. I didn’t know this at the time, but mom came from a poor family with an abusive father. I guess that makes sense why she was so adamant about keeping us safe.

For the longest time neither sis or I had any clue as to what was actually happening in our house growing up. That’s how good a mother she was. She was able to hide the abuse her husband threw at her, sometimes literally. While we slept, or were out with friends or at school, my father made his wife’s life a living hell. He would hit and scream at her. Hell, one time he went as far as stabbing her when he got really drunk one night.

We didn’t see the signs until it was too late. Neither sis or I had any clue what was going on or how we could help. As far as we were concerned, our childhood was good, filled with love and the things needed to keep us alive and happy.

One night when I was a preteen, not sure when, I woke up with the fierce need to piss. I tossed aside the covers and made my way through our small house. The light was already on so I did the polite thing and knocked a couple times. I didn’t get a reply, so, thinking that someone had just left the light on, I twisted the doorknob and gently pushed the door open.

I will never forget what I saw. The image is forever burnt into my mind’s eye, haunting me at every turn.

Everything was normal inside the bathroom, save for the dub. The tub had been filled to the brim with a puddle at the side of the tub. Resting in the tub was the twins’ mother, dressed in a comfortable looking night gown and a pair of shorts. Her right arm dangled over the side of the tub, several thick lines were drawn across her wrist, penned in blood. The bathtub’s water was cold and dyed a murky red.

I could not, did not want to process what I was staring at. My mom lay there in the cold water, eyes wide open, the dried remains of tears still present on her face. The knife she had used sat on the edge of the tub. A bottle of sleeping pills floated on the surface of the water making death a certainty.

I didn’t even realized I had started crying. It felt as if I had detached from my body and was watching it from above. She couldn’t be dead. There was no way. She was always so happy and always had a smile on her face.

The next couple days passed by in a blur. I had completely shut down. No son should ever have to see their dead mother as a result of suicide. That would break even the strongest of men. That was the start of my downfall. When she died, so did I.

Life lost all meaning. Suddenly, no one mattered. Nothing was enjoyable. For the most part I sat on my bed locked in a staring contest with my wall. Sis was worried sick about me, as always. Dad? He didn’t shed a tear once. Not a single fucking tear. Not one.

That is, until the funeral.

A lot of people showed up to pay their respects. My mom had been popular in school and had made many friends throughout the course of her life. I recognized most of them as they hugged me and said how sorry they were. We all got time to say our goodbyes before the casket was closed and carried outside. It was just our luck that the weather took a turn for the worse and started dumping rain on us. We endured it, though. For her.

Sis and I watched as her casket was lowered into the earth, our father behind us. I looked up at him and he was crying, but not in a normal, “I’m really sad,” type of cry. This was fake. Staged. He wasn’t really crying. Those were lies streaming down his face. There was no sorrow in his eyes. If anything, he looked proud.

The moment we got home that son of a whore hit the bottle, and hit it hard. It hadn’t even been an hour after we got home and he was slurring his words and talking shit about the woman he just buried. Nothing about him told me he was upset about the passing of his wife. He just carried on like usual, drunk as a skunk.

I remember sis trying to care for our father. He had thrown up in the living room and she was the one who decided to clean up the mess. While she was doing this, that bastard just laughed and laughed. He spoke but was so drunk nothing he said made any sense.

Well, that is until he muttered the words, “Stupid bitch, clean better! No wonder your mom killed herself, she was ashamed of you! You worthless sack of shit!”

Poor Seia burnt into tears and fled to our room, slamming the door behind her. I just sat there on the sofa, staring at my father. He had started to laugh when sis took off. Occasionally I’d be able to pick up a word or two, but most of it was nonsense.

“What did you do to my mom,” I finally asked him. “Why did she kill herself?”

“Because she hated you so much she couldn’t bear being around you anymore. Only thing she was good at was dying. Thank god for that. I was sick of beating sense into her. Rest in piss, you dead cunt.”

White hot rage filled my body. I knew nothing but fury as the words came out of that bastard’s mouth. When he saw how upset he had made me, all he could do was laugh some more. All he did was insult, drink and laugh.

I got up out of my spot on the couch and walked out of the living room. I went into the kitchen and opened the door leading to the garage, headed for my father’s tool kit. If there was one thing that my father loved, it was his motorcycle. He absolutely babied that fucking thing. Treated it far better than he treated any of us.

Standing before the tall red tool case on wheels, I started opening up drawers at random. A sea of wrenches, screwdrivers and other tools greeted me at every turn. It took a minute to find what I was looking for and when I finally found it I closed the drawer, left the garage and walked back into the living room.

In short time that I had been away father had passed out. His mouth hung open as he snored loudly, the now empty bottle of vodka wedged between the cushions. I approached him, moving as quietly as my little body could manage. My hand was raised, holding a large red wrench with an adjustable jaw.

WHACK!

I hit him. Hard.

“Wuh?” he gasped, his beady eyes fluttering open.

A thin line of blood trickled down the right side of his face, coming from a fresh gash in his scalp. He tried to bring up his hand but I was too fast, too angry. I hit him again.

This time he yelped and fell over to the side and rolled off the couch. I roared and kicked the coffee table, sending it flying across the room.

“YOU DID THIS!” I screamed, my heart pounding in my chest. “You drove her to this! You were hurting her!

“Fuck you,” the bastard droned as a thick strand of saliva hung from his lower lip.

He tried to sit up but ended up taking another blow to the side of the head. He groaned, pushing his body up with trembling arms. His right eye was twitching aggressively and his nose was bleeding but I didn’t care.

“Please stop!” he cried out.

I roared in return and hit him as hard as my little arms could manage, sending him sprawling. Tunnel vision set in while I watched a seizure rip through his body. He had started to knock his head against the tiled floor, a small puddle of blood forming beneath him. A dark, wet stain spread through the crotch of his sweat pants while he pissed his pants, whether out of fear or just brain injury. I didn’t care. Still don’t care.

I hit him a fith time and tossed the wrench aside before I sat on the bastard’s chest, roughly slapping his face every few seconds.

“Get up, bitch! Come on, fight back! Or am I too much of a fighter for you?” I taunted him, my slaps turning into punches.

“GET THE FUCK UP!” I screamed.

I felt my hands wrap around his throat, thumbs pressing into his windpipe. His mouth opened and close, the air trapped in his lungs. He tried to push me aside but was too weak to do so. In my fury I didn’t notice I had been slamming the back of his head against the hard floor of the living room. Each blow sounded like a bomb in the silence, offering the cracking of bone as an encore.

When I was done there wasn’t much of a head left.

I don’t even remember actually killing him. Truth me told I blacked out after I choked him. World went black and the next thing I know Seia is comforting me in our room despite what I had just done. I didn’t have to explain to her why I did it.

From that point on we lived on the streets. We were long gone when the authorities found his body. They assumed someone had broken in and killed him, unable to believe that a child had done that to a grown man twice his size.

Siea and I worked hard to get bigger and stronger. In our spare time, when we weren’t stealing or begging for money, we worked out. Sit-ups, pull-ups, whatever. When we were done and ready, we looked older than we actually were. Using this to our advantage, Seia and I joined up with the army and the rest is history.

I still wonder what my life would have been like had she not killed herself. I don’t think Seia and I would ever willingly join the military with our gentle and caring mom still in our lives. When she was alive all Sis and I wanted to do was spend time with her and listen to her stories or her jokes. But we never got the chance to do so. She was taken from us, like everything else in our lives.

If anything our lives got worse after we enlisted. We went through boot camp like everyone else and were stationed in some backwater nation in some poorly built FOB. On our first mission we got ambushed and I lost both my arms.

While on the mend I met a man named Cassian. He was a handsome man with blonde hair and bright green eyes. His smile was kind and his eyes held so much love, love I didn’t deserve. It didn’t take long for us to fall for each other given how he was at my side all day for several weeks while the prosthetics were being built.

We had to hide our relationship, obviously. I easily out ranked him, and nether of us wanted to lose our jobs. So, we had our dates in total secrecy and slept together whenever possible. We fiercely made love in the shadows, knowing nothing but each other’s bodies.

For the longest time things were great between us. Cassian got on great with Seia and in just a couple of years he was like a brother to her. We got married in private with an official bribed to the gills to keep his mouth shut. For a long time we lived our secret lives while carrying out our duties. He was a combat medic and I a spy.

Two years ago, shortly after Seia was assaulted, he was caught up in an ambush. We didn’t know anything had happened until he didn’t report for duty the next morning.

It did not take long to find his body. They left it out for us to find, after all.

Cassian was strung from a tree, his body swaying back and forth in the gentle breeze, the noose tight around his neck. All three of his eyes had been scooped out and discarded. His body was covered in stab wounds and bruises. Most of his teeth were missing and his nose was a crumpled mess.

That was the die I died. Nothing mattered after that. Mari was hurting physically while I wasted away mentally.

So, we went AWOL.

We left at night, leaving behind nothing but a bombed out building and dead bodies. I had staged it to look like we had been attacked by an outside force. This was back when the Empire was beginning to crumble and fall apart, so our escape mostly went unnoticed. Someone must have spotted us, because we started finding flyers demanding our death in return for a good amount of coin.

We went into hiding and didn’t come out for over a year. We were holed up in Ul’dah, a perfect place for two fugitives to hide out. We tried to live normal lives, but sis was taken one night. Now that she’s gone, I have nothing to live for.

I miss my sister so goddamn much. Her presence alone was comforting and she knew how to talk to me when I was having an episode. She was a lot like our mom, kind, gentle and full of love. All I have left of her are photos and what little belongings she had. The ship I stole ended up being her tomb. I haven’t been able to go in it since I buried her. Hard to look at the spot where my sister died while I was trying to save her life.

I failed you mom.

I failed you, Seia.

I hope in time you can forgive me.

[bramblesramblesintoshambles]

The Eclipse Dungeon (Part V)

So, this should be the final post I make about this. I'll hopefully run it for people soon and then I can make edits to it based on that. If anyone runs this or is interested in 13th Age then I highly recommend it. The system is extremely fun! I'm gonna get into the final part of this dungeon in a second. But to remind people of where the last post left off, the doors behind the Eclipse Queen had opened at her demise. From it steps the undead form of the Eclipse King, wearing golden armour and wielding the sword from the artwork around this dungeon. Your party, presumably on their last legs after the dungeon has forced them to expend those precious daily powers.

Full Heal Up

That's right it's time for the party to get a full heal-up! Now, most people new to this system might question what stops them from doing this before their big boss fight with the Eclipse Queen? Well in 13th Age the game master gives Full Heal ups at narratively appropriate moments. Typically, this is after 4 or so encounters. The dungeon puzzles and fights throughout it easily qualify for 4 encounters. So at this point it's quite appropriate to give them a little boost. In terms of how to frame it, the more dramatic the better. I think wording should very much vary from character to character. But I'm going to go for a "As the Eclipse King approaches you lift your sword, arms shaking, but it's not even from fear. It's exhaustion. You're tired, beaten and bruised. The weight of it all, causes your spirit to crumple inwards, until something changes. Beyond fatigue, doubt, pain, there's a gravity pulling your sword up not down. A heaviness which holds you up and demands you cannot fall!" At that point I'm going to improv something for each character, then I'm going to announce a Full Heal Up.

-Art by ALCD (Pixiv) taken from Twitter.

The Eclipse King

In terms of a physical description for the Eclipse King feel free to improv but this is what I have written.

"The doors swing wide and you all stumble back as heavy armour echoes in the rain. Those handsome murals and tapestries you've seen, even those on the walls of this hallway, look nothing like this. It's not a man, this is something cold. The helmet obscures his face but its not eyes looking at you from within there. Its an absence of a soul, registering the presence of something outside their vessel. The Eclipse King steps up to the corpse of the Queen, and to your surprise he kneels. His armour creaks as he deftly closes her eyelids, rain rolls down those dark cheeks like tears. You all realise, worse than what you thought, this is not some alien presence which devoured the innards of a once noble king. This is the chosen warrior of the Sun god, the ender of the calamities, the bringer of prosperity for his age. The rot of a demigod stands before you, all his wonder and majesty corrupted into the horror of it. He has no words, only a mournful and terrifying throatless cry as he moves to strike those who killed his wife, his love, his Queen."

After this you can go into the full heal up.

Now I looked around for stats to use and I think Human Zombie is gonna do great for us! We need to make some alterations! Unlike before I've gone in and actually edited the stat block to save time.

-Image from 13th Age SRD webpage.

I'm hopeful that this will be balanced however, I'll have to be careful in combat. But it should be fine. If things go badly we'll improv solutions, backbone of these games is improv after all!

A small note on the whole Undead Legion thing, he targets the suits of armour which contain mummified corpses he will not target the Eclipse Queen. He cannot bring himself to do it. However If you make him, I'd say it's only fair for him to take 1d6 Psychic Damage a round from it. Arguably you could also give him 7 damage from and +8 to attack rolls too. Depends how mean you want to be.

But after this battle both will be dead. I have my own thoughts for what his little lobby looks like. You can feel free to wing it though and tie to to player goals or icons or whatever you like. Have fun with it, have fun with the dungeon. I'm too tired to keep thinking about this, I'm gonna run it and maybe make changes but also maybe not!

[robert-sims]

IDIFU Women’s IN4 Cookie-HI Chunky High Heel Sandals Review

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[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 40: Life Goes On But The Threat Looms

Masterlist

Life goes on after the Gathering and the lighting of the cross. Those who had come back with them from the Gathering continue to carve out their new life at the ridge.

Arch Bug has been hired as the factor of the Ridge while his wife Murdina settles in as housekeeper at the Big House. There's also Billy Aberfeldy, his wife and daughter who are both called Ruth are nearly in their own cabin after having to live in cramped conditions in the Big House and two other families. One of the families is Geordie Chisholm's, from Ardsmuir, brood. His wife, his elderly mother who narrowly escaped being trampled by Da's high-strung horse, Gideon, when travelling back to the Ridge, and his seven sons. His younger sons, Thomas, Anthony and Toby Chisholm, ranging in age from five through eight, are quickly dubbed "the spawn o’ Satan" by Mrs Bug.

Marsali also becomes Mama's new assistant. Brian knows his mother should have the help and support that he and Ellen can't always offer, particularly after Mr Farrish's death because of his wife's well-meaning but murderous methods she used to treat him before bringing him on death door to the surgery meant no hope of being saved.

——

"Dr Rawlings?" Brian questions as he looks at the paper his mother had handed to him. The title reads 'Dr. Rawlings recommends' with a list covering the rest of the page. "Do you think it'll work?"

Mama huffs. "It has to. If I have witness anyone else die from supposed cures that's actually killing them because of a 'reputable physician'." She rolls her eyes causing Brian to smirk slightly. "I'm making lots of copies and distribute them to our settlers. Ellen has helped me."

"Want more help in writing more about not to do?"

Mama smiles. Grateful for the help, she hands Brian a pen and paper. Brian sits down and starts helping her copy the list.

——

Brian looks around the hallway as he follows his parents in the Big House. With all the men diligently working around the clock, it is now safe to walk around upstairs and the basics of it are done. But there is still a lot to do to get it finished, like carpeting the floors or putting wallpaper on the walls, etc. What will one day become bedrooms are just empty spaces with nothing in them. They don't even have doors. Except for one.

The three of them stop outside of one room that has a finished door, painted white with maroon trim and a silver doorknob.

"What's this?" Brian questions.

"It's yer new room." Da casually states.

He raises his eyebrows, not understanding. "What? What do you mean? What do you mean my room?"

"Go inside and see for yourself." Mama adds.

Brian is trying to remain cautiously optimistic as he slowly turns the doorknob and opens the door.

"Wow," is all he can say at first. Inside is an upgraded version of what he had in the kitchen.

Not only is it twice as big but there is a new bed as well. On the wall across from the door, which is wallpapered off white, is a large window that looks over the back fields and has curtains that are the colour of the door's trim that at the moment are drawn back. He no longer has only a small dresser for his clothes. Now, he has a tall and wide-standing wardrobe for just himself that is dark wood with intricate patterns carved out in it. He takes one step at a time going around the room, wondering if this is real.

"Well, lad? Does it please ye?" Da needs to know.

Brian looks back at them. "It more than pleases me. I can't believe this. This is actually my room?"

"We figured it was time you had a bit more privacy and space rather than being held up in that shoebox of a room." Mams tells him.

Brian grins at his parents. "Thank you."

——

...yet the threat still looms

When Da had gotten his order from Tryon to hunt and kill Murtagh, he figured the safest place he could be was on the Ridge, since no one would ever think he would be hiding out there. He lived not even a half mile from the Big House in his own larger lean-to. He didn't ever dare come to them, but Da, Brian, and the rest of their family made several treks out to see him. But now that Tryon is getting much more serious about taking down the Regulators, Brian is glad that Murtagh has moved on.

Governor Tryon introduced Da to Lieutenant Knox at Ellen and Roger's wedding, explaining that the lieutenant would assist Da with his search for Murtagh. Everyone was worried about how Da could possibly hold off on finding his godfather with the redcoats breathing down his neck.

"What are you going to do?" Mama asked her husband.

"If it's a manhunt Tryon wants, it's a manhunt he shall get." Da responded. Short and sweet.

Da tries sending Tryon's men on a wild goose chase, but things are still getting very heated. The regulators are lathering the Militia men with tar and feathers. Tryon is at his wit's end and Brian knows it is not going to end well.

——

December 1770

Far too soon for anyone's liking, it comes time for Da to leave again, now taking with him the men of the Ridge. This included Brian, Mama, Fergus and Roger. Lieutenant Knox wants them to gather the men of the Ridge to aid in enlisting for the militia, for Tryon's army against the Regulators and to show the Regulators their numbers.

Because of Arch Bug's advanced age and injury to his hand, he is ineligible for service in the militia and thus can be depended upon to mind matters on the Ridge in Da's absence. The Lindsay brothers prepare to join them on their journey. Rabbie Cochrane, while he's too old to join the militia Da has been forced to gather, some of his eleven grown children scattered across the mountains will be mustered.

A dozen militiamen from Fraser's Ridge are travelling with them including John Quincy Myers, Isaiah Morton, brothers Kenny and Evan Lindsay, Geordie Chisholm and Ronnie Sinclair. The plan is to recruit men along the way, with a stop at Brownsville first, and take them to Hillsborough.

"Captain Fraser, permission to approach?" Ellen calls to him. She has already said goodbye to their parents, Fergus and Roger.

Brian turns from his horse to her. "Granted." He chuckles. He's glad for his sister's jokes considering how nervous he feels though his shooting skills have improved.

"You ready for this?"

"Absolutely not."

"Stop. You're gonna do fine. Da's gonna be right there with you the whole time. He's not going to let you do anything he doesn't think you're ready for." Ellen reassures.

"I'm just praying that the numbers we form will make the Regulators surrender before there's any risk of that." Brian says, chewing his lip anxiously.

"With Murtagh leading them, you know that's not going to happen. He's determined to kill Tryon himself."

"Any chance a captain can get out of having to fight in the actual battle and can just cheer the troops on from the sidelines?" Brian asks only half joking.

Ellen lets out a, "Ha! I would love to see you try to convince Da of that. But if that doesn't work," she puts her hand on his arm, "please stay safe. Hide behind trees and rocks or whatever is closest, and just stay alive no matter what."

A third person then joins them, announcing themselves with, “Brian?” It is Aila Ceallach. She has long curly blonde hair and brown eyes. She is shorter than Ellen but just as slim. She is the kind of pretty and the sort of bubbly and flirty personality. 

Aila glances at Ellen and is almost surprised to see her there. “I apologise, Mistress Mackenzie, fer interruptin’ yer conversation.”

“Not at all. No need to apologise.”

“I will leave the two of you to finish your goodbyes.” Ellen says to them. She touches his arm. “Be careful, got it?” 

Brian nods in reply, flashing her a grateful smile. She gives Aila a kind smile, and Aila curtsies then Ellen walks away to find Marsali.

Aila turns back to Brian. Brian is more than a bit miffed at his time with his sister being cut off but smiles pleasantly at her. 

“Miss Ceallach.” He greets, bowing his head. 

Aila blushes and gives a quick curtsy, biting back an idiotic grin. “I, uh, I-I wanted te wish ye luck on yer endeavours. I’ll be prayin’ fer ye, fer God te keep watch over ye and keep ye out o’ harm’s way. An-and the other men, all o’ them, o’ course too.”

“That’s very kind of you, Miss Ceallach.”

Aila nods so quickly that Brian wonders if her head is going to fall off before leaving. Brian sighs before turning to look at the rest of the group all mounted on their horses and ready to leave.

A moment later, the militia leaves. Brian looks back to Ellen, Marsali, the kids and many Ridge residents watching them go. Brian is reminded that for them they are really fighting.

——

A/N: Realised I’d gotten my characters mixed up. It’s meant to be Aila Ceallach at the end talking to Brian and not Ruth Aberfledy.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[naoehalara]

A new era

Imagem: Ricardo Stuckert.

It was the first day of 2023 when Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, widely known for short name Lula, walked up the ramp of Palácio do Planalto, the most powerful building in Brazil, for the third time.

It had rained a lot throughout December in my home city, Brasilia. The last days of 2022 kept the grass soaked and the heavy air was constantly surrounded by thunderous melodies and the unending soundtrack of water meeting the ground.

The general advice was for Lula not to do the traditional ride in the convertible Rolls-Royce that carried Brazilian presidents to their inauguration for 70 years. But it wasn’t because of the weather.

Over the last four years, Brazil had suffered from a terrible fate in its history. Discrimination, lies and violence became ordinary since they emanated from the highest chair in Palácio do Planalto from 2019 to 2022. Hate became the rule and people felt comfortable on distilling it against political opponents, once the most important person of the country did it constantly and no serious consequences were directed to him.

That is why, on January 1st, most of the people recommended Lula to not ride on the open car amongst the citizens who were technically celebrating his victory over Jair Bolsonaro on the presidential elections. Along with the possibility of terrible storms, just like the previous days, there was sadly, but truly, a much worst danger than the threats coming from the sky: the hate atmosphere was dimmer than the dark clouds. Lula could be shot while heading to his destination – just like Brazilian activist and politician Marielle Franco, English The Guardian/Washington Post journalist Dom Phillips and indigenist Bruno Pereira had government-related murders on Bolsonaro’s term.

But, on the first day of the year, just as if it was a miracle, the skies were of the clearest light blue. Clouds were as white as a peace flag and the hottest sun rays were warming the avenues of the city where I was born. On the first day of the year, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva got up on the 1950’s Rolls-Royce next to the first lady, Janja, the vice-president, Geraldo Alckmin, and his wife.

I was there. Just less than two months before I moved to the other side of the world to study, I was able to see history happening right in front of my eyes.

Growing up in an open-minded family and studying Journalism, it was natural for me to actively participate in political events and debates, since my early teenage years, when I discovered how important it was to get my voice heard and to speak for me and for the others who couldn’t. But never in my 23 years had I seen so closely and so concretely how essential it was for a whole nation, especially for the minorities, to get their needs attended and themselves represented by a respectable and caring leader – even more after four years of neglect and disregard.

I saw with my eyes the excitement, the joyfulness, the union among those who watched the new president go up the ramp and start his term. Above all, I felt with my other four senses the hope of a new age coming through.

Back in Brazil, I study in a public university, which, among other public high education institutions, is leader in research, education and extension, and is one of the best of the country. Just before I came to South Korea, through a university partnership, Brazilian education was receiving the worst budget cuts it has ever experienced. It was Bolsonaro’s notorious plan to break up public universities.

This way, I clearly remember how fearful I was of having my exchange intention turned into an unachievable dream. Even when it was all set, and I had already been accepted to study one semester abroad, I had to pray and cross my fingers that Bolsonaro wouldn’t be reelected, because, if he did, I had decided I wouldn’t come – specifically, for two main reasons: it was possible that, when I’d go back, one semester later, public universities would be so wasted I wouldn’t be able to finish my degree; and, since I was at the end of the graduation, it would be preferable for me to finish it the faster possible so I could definitely get out of the country instead of living under the power of a government that stimulated hate and violence.

I remember going out to vote with my family on both rounds, in October 2022, afraid, insecure. I remember seeing the vote counting live through the whole day. I remember receiving the news that Lula had already been elected by Brazilians who were abroad in Asian countries – except for Japan, where Bolsonaro won –, in which the election was held 12 hours before. I remember having hope, and I remember when the reporter finally announced that Lula was elected the 39th president of Brazil.

It was a collective relief. It was almost like Brazilians could finally fully breathe again, after four years holding our breaths.

So, on the first day of the year, I remember the sun burning my back whilst I was walking with my family towards the president inauguration. I saw it with my own eyes when the presidential sash was passed to Lula not by Bolsonaro – who was at this time cowardly hiding at the U.S. and expressly broke the Brazilian democratic tradition of handing over the sash to next president as a symbol of a peaceful transition –, but by the people.

It was The New York Times’ cover the next day. “On Sunday, Mr. Lula ascended the ramp to the presidential offices with a diverse group of Brazilians, including a Black woman, a disabled man, a 10-year-old boy, an Indigenous man and a factory worker. A voice then announced that Mr. Lula would accept the green-and-yellow sash from ‘the Brazilian people,’ and Aline Sousa, a 33-year-old garbage collector, played the role of Mr. Bolsonaro and placed the sash on the new president.”

It was it. Lula won. And, just like that, the whole world was talking about him once again. After being the most approved Brazilian president during his first terms, from 2003 to 2010, being called “the most popular politician on Earth” by Barack Obama, raising the name of Brazil in and outside the country, and being unfairly chased and arrested for political reasons, he was back at the game and in the sight of leaders from all around the globe. “From now on,” said Lula once, when his political chase was at its peak, “if they arrest me, I’m a hero. If they kill me, I become a martyr. And if they let me go, I’ll become president again.” And that’s what happened. He didn’t become a martyr, since he was fortunately not killed, but the Brazilian hero Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva became president of this continental country for the second time.

With not even four complete months of government on this third term, he is constantly showing what he came for – again –, already figuring in Time’s 100 most influential people of 2023.

Last week, he officially visited Asia as Brazil president for the first time after almost 20 years. Just while me, myself, visited Asia for the first time in my life, for a one-semester exchange in South Korea, thanks to his election.

In the United Arab Emirates, the cloudy Middle East sky was painted blue, white, yellow and green, Brazil flag colors, by airplanes that crossed Abu Dhabi’s presidential palace, where Lula got his way leaded by a cavalry holding Brazilian and UAB flags. He was well-received by sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed Al Nahyan to the sound of the Brazilian national anthem played by a guard band. Lula invited him to visit Brazil, after discussing economy, commerce, infrastructure, energy and climate changes, and signing agreements that amount about U$ 2,5 billion.

In China, the president was received with a wave of Chinese and Brazilian flags held together by kids who greeted him happily to the sound of a Brazilian song called Novo tempo – which could be literally translated as New era, famous for being a resistance symbol against the military dictatorship that ruled the country between 1964 and 1985 and left a heritage of authoritarianism and excessive violence, that was resembled in the period of 2019 to 2022.

The message was clear. 2023 is the start of a new era not only for Brazil and its international relations, but for Brazilians’ culture and dreams. “In the new era, despite the punishments, we’re grown up, we’re watchful, we’re more alive to help ourselves out,” says the lyrics of the song.

Shanghai Old Jazz Band also played the instrumental of a Brazilian lullaby, widely known for all generations of Brazilians who used to sing it as a child. “If this street was mine,” says the ballad, “I would have it tiled with shiny little pebbles just for my love to pass by.”

Lula is known for his peaceful position towards wars and conflicts, honoring the mediator peace tradition Brazil was so known for, since the First World War. In Asia, he talked to China’s Xi Jinping and UAB’s Al Nahyan about creating a group with countries interested in peace issues, in solving conflicts and trying to make the world more united, after so much disrespect and hate. “Brazil is back,” he said, just when he arrived on the other side of the world from the country we came from, “and willing to make a difference. To help the world see through new eyes. And we have a task we didn’t have 10 years ago: to dispel a hate we thought didn’t exist anymore.”

“We need humanism to react. We can’t have a society without heart, without feelings. Beyond politics, we need to take care of our souls. We’ll have to learn how to reach out to each other one more time. We need to defeat the individualism that is taking over humanity.”

The agreements with China summed up to almost U$ 10 billion, the highest amount with the Asian country until now. They embrace areas such as renewable energy, automotive industry, agribusiness, green lines of credit, information technology, health and infrastructure.

“I return to Brazil today,” he said, a week ago, “with the certainty that we’re coming back to civilization. And, more importantly, that we reopened the doors of the world to more progresses to take part in our country.”

Seeing the videos that covered the welcome ceremonies in Asian countries made me especially emotional. As a citizen from Brazil not because of the city I was born in – which happens to be the capital and the center of power of the country –, but because of the green and yellow blood that runs proudly through my veins and the rich culture that exhales from my Brazilian soul, I lacked the commitment of a real representant for my people. As a cultural journalist and someone who pursues singularities of cultures from all around the world, I was tired of watching my own country, which has an unmeasurable culture itself, being disrespected and getting its reputation lowered each time more. We were nothing like the hate previous president was disseminating through ignorant speeches. We were so much more, as compatriots and as individuals, and we could show so much more of our love to the world.

That’s what I expected I could bring to South Korea, on this exchange adventure I’ve been into: all the warmness my home country taught me to hand out. By helping others. By holding dialogues with different cultures. By promoting peace. By loving Brazil and by wanting the world to be a better place. 

Skies were clear blue and sun rays were shining bright when President Lula was received in Asia, just like they were on the first day of his term, back in Brazil. For me, back in February, it was the start of the most important journey of my life, until now. For my country, it is the start of a new journey back to the heart of the world.

“In the new era, despite the punishments, we’re on the stage, we’re on the streets, breaking handcuffs to help ourselves out. In the new era, despite the dangers, we find ourselves singing on the town square.”

References:

Gore, A. (2023, April 13). Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is on the 2023 Time 100 list. Time. Retrieved April 23, 2023, from https://time.com/collection/100-most-influential-people-2023/6269853/luiz-inacio-lula-da-silva/

Lins, I., & Martins, V. (1980). Novo tempo. On Novo tempo [Album]. EMI-Odeon Records.

Lula [@LulaOficial]. (2023, April 13). É preciso que o humanismo reaja. Não podemos ter uma sociedade sem coração, sem sentimentos. Além da política, precisamos cuidar da nossa alma. Vamos ter que aprender a estender a mão para o outro mais uma vez. Precisamos derrotar o individualismo que toma conta da humanidade. [Tweet]. Twitter. Retrieved April 23, 2023, from https://twitter.com/LulaOficial/status/1646372383953920001?s=20 

Lula [@LulaOficial]. (2023, April 13). O Brasil voltou. E com vontade de fazer a diferença. De ajudar o mundo a ter um olhar diferente. E temos uma tarefa que não tínhamos há 10 anos: dispersar um ódio que achávamos que não existia mais. [Tweet]. Twitter. Retrieved April 23, 2023, from https://twitter.com/LulaOficial/status/1647455561510797313?s=20

Lula [@LulaOficial]. (2023, April 16). Bom dia! Retorno ao Brasil hoje com a certeza de que estamos voltando à civilização. Nos Emirados Árabes, fechamos acordos que somam R$ 12,5 bilhões. Na China foram 50 bilhões. E, mais importante, reabrimos as portas do mundo para mais avanços para o nosso país. [Tweet]. Twitter. Retrieved April 22, 2023, from https://twitter.com/LulaOficial/status/1647550016071024650?s=20

Nicas, J., & Spigariol, A. (2023, January 1). Lula becomes Brazil's president, with Bolsonaro in Florida. The New York Times. Retrieved April 22, 2023, from https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/01/world/americas/bolsonaro-florida-brazil.html

Saxena, S. (2010, April 9). Why Lula is the Man - Times of India. The Times of India. Retrieved April 22, 2023, from https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/edit-page/why-lula-is-the-man/articleshow/5775158.cms

The Brazilian Report [@BrazilianReport]. (2022, November 4). #CARTOON: Lula da Silva issued a prophecy that this week has come true. “From now on,” he said, “if they arrest me, I’m a hero. If they kill me, I become a martyr. And if they let me go, I’ll become president again.” [Tweet]. Twitter. Retrieved April 22, 2023, from https://twitter.com/BrazilianReport/status/1588281176526946304

[enkisstories]

By any other initial

Long textpost incoming. Although I was able to rescue my saves, I don’t have a computer that can run Sims 4 atm, so I cannot take screenshots for Tina’s Halloween story.

Word count: 2664

It so happened that in the year of the Lord 1761, in the night before All Hallow’s Eve, six men and women sat on a small hill on an island that was floating smack dab in the middle of the Detroit river. And that hill was the topmost point of Belle Isle, but it really wasn’t particularly high, not even sufficient to trigger Connor Stern’s fear of heights.

Connor and the other five were convicted criminals, who were working on the fields and in the house of one John Phillips and his wife. Tired after a long day and feeling the wind pierce through their rags, at least the convicts hadn’t went hungry the last few days, as they usually did. That was a good thing on principle, but quite honestly they all were sick of their diet that had consisted solely of pumpkin mush. They were craving something hearty for a change, like bread, cheese or meat. Not that there’d been a chance of getting any of that, not with John for their master.

It wasn’t that the Phillips couple went out of their way to be cruel to their workers. But in their ambition to maximize their profits they let the six people, who were building their wealth for them, have only the absolute neccessary things to survive. In the end it didn’t matter why the workers suffered, because suffer they did and that was a fact.

In their misery the convicts found themselves driven to commit criminal acts more often than back home in England. Ironically their life on Belle Isle had sharpened the men’s and women’s wits and taught them lots of ways to outsmart, outrun and outpickpocket their masters. It was the opposite of what the judges had intended by sending them to the colonies…

Earlier today even Gavin Reed, who was otherwise bending his back to please the Phillips in the hopes of getting a recommendation for a good position seven years hence, had stolen a couple of still good candles from the manor house where he was working and sneaked them out to the fields, where the others lived.

The field workers in turn had hidden some of the pumpkins they had hollowed out for the Phillips to sell as lanterns and kept them for themselves. Connor had carved the likeness of an owl into it and then they had taken it up the hill and put a candle in and lit that candle for all the ghosts that might or might not pass by to see. For tonight was the night when the gates between this world and the next were said to stand wide open and if a stray soul had any hope left to find its way to the thereafter, then that was right now. It only needed a little guiding light, like the candleflame.

The candle inside the lantern was flickering for some time now, despite being sheltered inside the pumpkin. It was a perfectly normal occurence, nothing occult at all, but even so added to the atmosphere.

„The suckers“, a convict by name of Daniel O’Malley mused out loud. „Escaping Belle Isle, when we cannot!“

Gavin leaned forwards, intent of blowing out the candle. His neighbor, one Tina Chen, had to quickly grab the man by the collar of the threadbare jacket of John’s, that Gavin was wearing, and pull him upwards again.

„Geeze, Gav“, Daniel said, „you’re more destructive when you try to be helpful than when set out to be wile!“

„I was only joking!“ the other defended himself. „Wouldn’t have went through with it, okay?“ Gavin waved his hands about. „There, there, ghostly shitters, the road is clear again! Have a nice journey, thank you for having traveled with Phillips Fargo!“

Daniel snorted, then he leaned back on his arms and resumed looking for ghosts. For he could be petty, but wasn’t a bad man, deep down. Daniel wouldn’t have blocked the path to salvation for another soul, just because he was trapped here himself (except maybe John Phillips’…).

The candle flickered some more, but other than that nothing happened. If ghosts were out and about, they were traveling in a solemn, orderly fashion, that wasn’t exciting to their „conductors“. Therefore the six friends eventually asked Tina to tell them a ghost story. Chances were that as a former pirate she knew some good ones.

„My tale is rather short“, Tina started her yarn, „but it repeats over and over, and every time it happens anew, other people are the heroes of it. Some come out of their adventure bolstered and proceed to do great things, others get crushed utterly by the truths they uncover. But at the bottom of it all is a secret old as time: That our world isn’t the only one. In fact, there are many like it, like prints made from the same stock.“

Now that statement was, of course, contradictory to everything Tina’s audience had been taught about the universe, but it was the start of a spooky story, that’s only purpose was to give you the goosebumps, so the untruth was excused.

When nobody complained, Tina went on:

„But sometimes those prints are imperfect, and in a few books, those imperfections give the printed story a whole new meaning.“

None of the convicts were especially literary (or even literate), but Tina’s words stood to reason. If the page where the Good Lord decided to flood the Earth was missing from a bible, then the reader wouldn’t know why Noah was building that huge ship all of a sudden. Or something like that anyway, because nobody would not know about Noah and the ark. But not all tales were as well known as that of the deluge, so some believeably could get messed up by a speck of stray ink or a missing word.

Following up on the thought, Tina put her own detail into the story, that she thought might touch her audience:

„In our world Connor has an identical two brother. In the other world, Daniel has one.“

„I don’t want Connor’s used twin!“ Daniel protested. „I want my own!“

„And also“, Tina said, „in that other world Daniel might not interrupt stories.“

„Oh. Sorry.“

„But it is also said“, Tina spoke on, „that if a person inscribes their initials in the same spot, at the same time, as their counterpart in a parallel world, then that person would be able to look into the other world, and see how they were faring there.“

„How were they to know where and when they should carve their name?“ Rika inquired.

„They don’t“, Tina replied. „That’s why this happens so rarely, doesn’t it?“

„No… that isn’t quite right…“ Gavin was frowning. „There must a be a way to figure it out!“

Everyone was looking straight at the man, who could be quite clever if he applied himself to solving a puzzle. But tonight Gavin only shook his head. No, he didn’t have an idea. And neither had Connor, despite having solved the case of the cursed chickens in early fall. It was Chris Miller, the former (and somewhat corrupt, as the story went) watchman, who eventually laughed out loud, because an idea had come to him and now that it was there, it sounded so simple in retrospect.

„You wait for a special moment everyone has heard about!“ Chris announced. „One like tonight! I mean, maybe a decisive battle was won a day earlier or later in that other world, or maybe the British never took Fort Detroit from the French, but the Saints are a constant, and so should be All Hallow’s Eve!“

„Oh! Clever!“ Rika Boek clapped her hands. Chris certainly was on to something here!

„You know what? Let’s do it!“ Gavin tossed into the round. „I mean, what can go wrong? Even if we don’t manage to look into another world, our initials will remain in any case.“

„That important to you?“ Connor prodded, to which Gavin nodded eagerly.

„Yes! When Fort Detroit is a city the size of London, nobody will remember our names, they will remember John’s instead. And somehow tonight that doesn’t sit well with me. I kinda don’t want to let him get away with it.“

„Alright…“

Connor slowly rose, Daniel jumped to his feat, Chris held out his hand to Rika and Tina hers to Gavin to pull them up from the ground. The change of position painfully reminded them of the chains around their ankles, that didn’t allow for running or graceful turns…

Together they scoured the area, or what little they could anyway, seeing that they had been on their feet all day and their soles were burning as much as their ankles were chafing. Eventually they decided on a rock a fair bit apart from the fields. It was large and prominent, and probably more useful as a landmark than at risk of getting smashed into gravel for being in the way. If anything in their vicinity had a chance of lasting decades, even centuries, then it was this rock.

Gavin took out his pocket knife, but Tina pushed the man’s hand downwards again. He’d only destroy the blade, she claimed, and the convicts better used flint to carve their letters into the rock.

„You mean – more searching around?“

„’fraid so, yes.“

More time passed, the night was getting darker, the candle had grown shorter and the pumpkin they were using as lantern smelled roasted of sorts, but finally the convicts had found both a spot to write on and a sharp piece of flint to scratch it with. All that was left was to move the lantern closer and start working.

Rika and Chris, who both could write well, went first, then they helped the others with their letters. When they were finished, Chris put the lantern on top of the rock and then they stared… and stared… and stared…

But how ever hard they squinted their eyes, and regardless of whether they looked at the ground, into the sky or just straight ahead, no window into another world wanted to open. It had been only a story, after all.

„It was probably blasphemy in the first place, believing in other worlds and stuff“, Chris said with a sigh and moved to retrieve the pumpkin-lantern from the rock. There were no multiple worlds, only this one and heaven and hell, although there was little difference between hell and Belle Isle at the moment. But at least their initials would remain, and for the rest of their seven year sentence, the convicts now had a special place all of their own.

„My bad, guys“, Tina apologized. „I heard that story in a tavern, it’s none of those I made up myself, so I couldn’t be sure if there wasn’t maybe a grain of truth to it. I should have chosen one of… my… own? Do you see that, too?!“

„See what?“ Daniel asked.

„The letters!“ Rika squeeled. „Oh, Chris, please, Chris, move the lantern again the way you did just now! Yes, like this! And now will you all look at the letters?“

They looked, as told, but what Rika had spotted easily, wouldn’t reveal itself to the illiterate ones so easily. Gavin even claimed that the letters were fine. He’d know, because even though he didn’t know his ABC, he had signed many contracts during his time as a day laborer all over the British Islands.

„Well, yours certainly look the same“, Rika agreed. „But some of the others, while still looking fine, as in: neatly carved, have changed.“

Everyone looked again, and as the truth sank in, a particular detail stood out to them. One by one, as if reacting to a silent command, they closed in on their youngest companion and pushed him forward.

Connor stumbled, very nearly losing his footing and crashing against the rock. But he caught himself and then reached out to touch his initials to the chorus of the others’ cheers. With the fingers of his right hand Connor traced the letters, to convince himself that they were really there and in the exact shape his eyes told him they had taken, while with his left hand the youth was wiping the moist from said eyes.

Connor’s initials, formerly „C.S.“ for „Connor Stern“, now read: „C. A-A.“

„Anderson!“ he whispered, moved beyond words.

Although a peek into the other world had been too much to ask for, the stone had gifted the inscribers with some insight of their alternate lifes, namely that the other Connor went by his father’s surname.

Fredrika Boek had changed to R.M. Apparently the other world’s Rika had decided to write her nickname, the one everyone only ever used anyway, instead of her full name. This world’s Rika didn’t have much capacity to explore how she felt about it, because the second letter told her that…

„I’m married in the other world!“ the woman rejoiced.

„I’m not!“ Tina chimed in in the same jolly voice. Her letters hadn’t changed.

„I cannot tell“, Chris said in a sulky voice. I may have taken a wife, but my initials wouldn’t reflect that.“

„Fair enough“, Gavin agreed with a grin, „if not for the little detail that Rika’s surname now starts with the same letter as yours, haha!“

Everyone agreed that this didn’t leave much to the imagination, even though Chris and Rika couldn’t help but blush at the idea.

„I got adopted!“ Daniel O’Malley cried out. „Look!“ And indeed his letters now were „D.R.“.

„…by my parents, apparently“, Gavin grunted.

„What? No! Don’t be silly! What are the chances a vagrant and a sailor would have met? By roaming the land respectively the sea, we basically ensured we wouldn’t meet ever, except for the very specific encounter of sharing a bunk at the convict ship. But you know what? Running to your parents, shouting „adopt me“ wasn’t my first impulse at that.“

„Just running away in shocked silence“, Connor suggested. „Or maybe shouting „take him back, take him back“…“

Gavin ignored the jab (as well as the others’ laughter following it).

„Yeah“ he said, „I don’t think one can adopt adults. Except maybe the nobility, in a symbolic way.“

By now the candle inside the pumpkin lantern was nearly burnt down, but everyone knew they wouldn’t forget what they had seen here ever, even if the letters would have reverted to their original state in daylight the next morning (and indeed they would do that…).

„Just one thing before we return to the shack“, Connor said. „By chance or by design, we did spread out our initials quite a bit. There’s space in between for many more.“

„What’s your angle?“ Daniel wondered.

„That there could be others with us in the other world, who aren’t here tonight in ours, so their letters wouldn’t have copied over. Like Hank… father. Or your mystery brother, the kind and gentle O’Malley.“

„I wouldn’t mind John being with us here in chains“, Daniel said, „although my wish was to look into a world where his bones grow cold in an unmarked grave. For what he has done to Gavin and how he’s treating us, I wouldn’t feel regret if I had killed him with my own hands!“

„Uh-uh“, Connor disagreed. „I don’t think this is how it works. John Phillips is wealthy and favored, god wouldn’t make a world where John loses everything. That’s not how divine grace works. More likely, if he and my father are here with us tonight, then not because John’s life took a turn for the worse, but because ours took a turn for the better.“

„I don’t know“… Daniel mumbled, only half convinced. „But it’s a nice thought, I guess.“

And with that they went back to the hut and they hit the hay and when the sun came up they had forgotten all their dreams from that night, but they wouldn’t forget what had transpired at the carved rock.

The changed initials are taken from my rotational save:

Connor Archer-Anderson (Not Hank's son here, but adopted by him. Married to one Kara Archer.) Rika Mack (Originally Rika Tachibana, "Boek" is only an invention for the historical save.) Tina Chen (Not married, but in a relationship with Gavin and Daniel.) Chris Miller (Married to Susan Haywood, who will join the cast in the winter round.) Daniel Reed (Married to Gavin, but his birth name was Phillips, not O'Malley.) John Phillips in this save is dead and was indeed killed by Daniel.