#request 1229

[lostdrarryfics]

hi! im looking for a fic thats called “alucio” or something like that? maybe “alucodi” idk. but anyways it was about draco being locked up and snaps gave him a endless dream potion bc he was abused and i think harry tries to save him? id really appreciate some help! thanks :)

We believe you’re looking for Alucinatio (57k, M), part of the Alucinatio series, by alexmeg!

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[bad268]

If You Only Knew

Aftermath Affair Pt. 3

(Ex! Lando Norris X Reader + Oscar Pisatri X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years!

Warnings: Not saying Lando cheated (!! It's fiction !!), depressing thoughts, passive suicidal remarks, listen to the song first and decide if you can handle it. HEAVILY based on the song by Alexander Stewart

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1229

Chapter Summary: The direct aftermath after coming to terms with the affair.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 2

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

You didn’t want to believe it. How could your sweet, caring, amazing boyfriend cheat on you? It was not in the cards for you. You talked about getting married. You talked about having kids. How could he fuck it all up?

How could Ava? It does take two to tango, and you remembered meeting her clearly. You had gone to the newest Quadrant merch photoshoot, and Ria introduced you as Lando’s future spouse to Ava. Looking back, you remember the sneer on her face, and when you asked, she said it was a strong smell or something that irritated her. God, you should have said something!

You had spent the last week thinking everything over, and it seemed just as bad as the first day. Thankfully, Lando had to go to Woking after the last race, so he hasn’t come home yet. Then, he was going to visit his family and Max before coming back to the apartment for the last bit of the summer break. 

Your head was spinning, and the room was spinning. It was a bad idea, looking back, but alcohol was the only thing numbing the pain at this point. It’s been hard trying to move on. You accepted that your relationship was over, but that’s seven years you grew with Lando by your side. 

Now, suddenly, you didn’t know who you were. You were completely lost. 

Some part of you felt guilty. Maybe you did something to make him cheat in the first place. Maybe he wasn’t happy with your sex life, and that’s why he went to Ava. 

You tried to see the good in it, but it was too hard. You kept all of this pain inside you because you didn't want to burden anyone. Your family would say they told you so. They never supported your relationship with Lando. Most of your friends were also friends of Lando, and they would side with him. Your other friends would probably laugh in your face.

You were all alone to face this. 

You wanted to tell your subscribers. They started to notice your mood drop, and they were getting concerned. You wanted to yell from the rooftops that Lando Norris is a cheater, but you couldn’t. That’s defamation because you don't have solid evidence. You wanted to tell anyone who would listen, but you didn't want to beg for attention.

You just wanted to be heard. You wanted to be seen. You wanted to do anything. 

You wanted to tell Oscar, but you didn't want him to worry. He would probably drop everything to get you out of the apartment, but he’s with Lando in Woking. The last thing you needed was Lando peaking at Oscar’s phone and seeing your name. So you pretend to be fine.

Until it all came crashing down with an incoming phone call. 

Oscar Piastri

You debated answering it. You were still on the verge of blacking out from how much alcohol you drank. You could barely move, so you let the phone ring out.

Moments later, another call came through.

Oscar Piastri

Again, you let it ring out as your vision started fading in the corners. If this was your end, you were ready for it. You weren’t sure how you were meant to live after this. You just felt so lost. Your thoughts were once again interrupted by another call. 

Oscar Piastri

You finally found the strength to turn your head to look at the notifications. 24 missed calls from Oscar and 13 texts, ranging from asking if you were okay to him asking if he needs to show up. After the last call rang out, making it 25 missed calls, a text came through.

“I’m coming over, and I know where the spare key is.”

The last thing you wanted was to have Oscar see you in this state. You struggled to grab your phone and clumsily hit the notification for the missed call. It immediately redialed Oscar’s number. It didn’t take more than two rings for him to answer.

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer?” He rushed out. You could tell he was in a car by the background noise, but you didn't actually listen to what he was saying. You couldn’t form words and you felt like you were struggling to breathe as you let out a choked sob. There were no tears at this point, but it still felt as draining. Oscar decided to change up his approach, “Hey, tell me what’s going on.”

“If you only knew,” You trailed off, your voice quiet and hoarse as you chuckled at your situation. “If you only knew what my mind is telling me I should do.”

“Are you safe? Where are you?” He pushed for your answer.

“I’m drunk and all alone in my room,” You answered weakly, spacing out and staring at the ceiling. You can vaguely hear Oscar ask something, but you’re too focused on nothing. “I’m too sad to cry, my brain is putting me through some shit, and I don’t know anything anymore. I’m sorry, but you said to text you if I need you. Well, I need you.”

“I’m almost there, just breathe for me please,” He tried to drive faster but the cars on the road were making it impossible.

“If you only knew,” You were hyperventilating but there was no stopping the word waterfall once it started. “I’m constantly overwhelmed. I wish I was someone else. I wish I had called for help sooner. I am falling and I can’t stop. I don’t know what I should be doing. I don't know who I am. I wanna get better, Oscar, I do, but I don’t know where I’m going. I want you to know, I admit it, I can’t do this on my own, Oscar. This is my plea for help. Please, I need you.”

You were finally able to let all of the feelings out. It felt good being able to cry for once. Oscar just had to listen in agony that he wasn’t there to help you at that moment. He had just pulled into the apartment lot and found a parking spot before running into the building to get let up to your apartment floor. 

You were still breathing heavily and unevenly when Oscar came running straight into your room, wrapping his arms around your shaking form. He was grounding you, and helping coax your breathing back to a normal pace. However, you still had something to get off your chest.

“Oscar, take me out of this hell,” You cried as you looked up at him and held his face in your hands. “I need you to help me out of here. I can't keep living like this. I don’t care how, but I need to get out of this hell. If you don’t, I will. I can’t do this anymore, Oscar, please.” You trailed off before leaning your head against his chest as all of your anger finally dissolved. 

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go,” He whispered as he held all of your weight against him. He felt so bad that he was (in a way) the cause of your pain, but he couldn’t stand seeing you live blissfully unaware of the deception Lando was causing you. He vowed that night to help you in any and every way possible.

~~~ Part 4 ->

~~

Tags- @barcelonaloverf1life

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[isobug]

Desirdae flag template ( PSD )

This is a 5000 x 3000 px template of the Desirdae flag format, you can download it at the link in the post source ( down at the very bottom of the post. ) I do NOT recommend using the preview image above for editing, it's been compressed !!

I made this because the previous flag template was a series of separate images at 2048 x 1229 px each and having it all together from the get-go makes requests faster for me! It also brings up the image quality / size to general wiki standards for flags.

I also made a .SVG version + separate .PSD template of the symbol ( which you can find here ) and split it into parts / colors in the template for additional ease of use ( and so it's easier to apply layer effects to different parts of the symbol, if you enjoy using those! )

I don't claim to have made this flag, the symbol, the term, or anything else. This is a simple coining resource!

( Like the term itself and my direct interaction criteria, I do not support / am against RQs + harmful transition and will block any direct interactions with my account related to either. I will not argue about this with you. )

Taglist - @radiomogai, @daybreakthing, @desirdae-archive

[prolix-yuy]

For the bangathon - I got cowgirl! How could I not request Cognitive Dissonance cowboy Jack OR medieval cowboy Pero! Up to you to choose which one my love, thank you so much for treating us ❤️

Ohhhhhh man Cee, I was very tempted by Jack, but then Pero came up and told me it was his turn. How was I to deny him?

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Position: Cowgirl

Word Count: 1229

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, PiV sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool wrap your tool), fingering, lil bit of spitting, shitty men that Pero has to run off. Reader does not speak Spanish for plot reasons.

Notes: This one got away from me but I don't regret a second of it.

The Spaniard lets you in when you knock on his door long after proper visiting hours. Out of armor he’s no less impressive, his shirt draped open over a deeply tanned and freckled chest. Your breath catches for a moment, realizing he could have paid for company tonight, but he’s thankfully alone.

He found you on the road, men following you as you struggled with your basket. The market had been fruitful today, but your trip was met with unwanted attention. Tears were streaking your face, hands shaking when his formidable horse clopped to your side. The men faltered, called him Spaniard (your only name for your savior) as he reached down to pluck your basket from your hands. Hitching it to a strap on his saddle, he reached for you next.

You gladly let him take you to town, settled behind him in the saddle. It was clear within moments that you didn’t share a common tongue when you tried to thank him. Instead he waved off your words and shrugged, swaying against you in the saddle. His face was etched in a scowl that seemed permanent, but his body was firm and warm against you. His touch had been respectful, eyes not even wandering. 

It had been a long time since you’d been with a man, your young marriage cut short with a bloody end. A widow too soon, most treating you kindly but with sadness behind their eyes. And there had been no one new in town for so long. When he let you down and nodded his goodbye, your plan grew like the creeping heat in your body.

Standing in his doorway now you wonder if he’ll turn you away. If he’ll misconstrue it as payment for protection, instead of a desire to let strong hands touch you. 

He steps aside, letting you into the modest room. The door closing should have made you nervous, but instead you’re thrumming with excitement, hands coming to your waist to fiddle with the leather ties. Normally this would begin with words, but since you shared none you hope your actions will speak enough. 

The Spaniard begins unlacing his leather pants, coming up behind you to spread his hands over your shoulders. They’re hot and heavy, and your body sings at how they hold you like steel instead of glass. Turning, you urge him to sit on the edge of the bed. His heavy brow furrows but he sits, pliant in a way no man has ever been with you. It makes you giddy at what may come.

Making a show out of undressing, you slide laces through eyelets, drop layers to the floor as the Spaniard palms his cock through his half-opened pants. His eyes hood in desire, lips parted as he tugs his shirt over his head. The bruises and scars along his ribs falter your fingers, left in nothing but your shift. His eyes catch yours roaming his body, and the desire cracks away into a scowl. You realize your error as he grabs his shirt, moving as if to leave.

“No, wait, please…” you stutter, stepping to cup his face in your hands. He stills, eyes drifting shut as you stroke the rough scruff. Finally his muscles unclench, and before he can find the strength to run again you straddle his lap.

The Spaniard’s eyebrows shoot into his mop of hair, hands coming to your waist as you settle your cunt against his cock. Pressing your foreheads together, you whisper your name to him. After a breath, he whispers back, “Pero.”

Then, “Bonita.”

Unable to stand the emptiness any longer, you help him work his pants over his hips, the proud jut of his cock silky against your inner thigh. Grasping his length, you hear a soft choke catch in his throat as you line him up with your entrance.

“Bonita,” he says again, hand grasping your chin to direct you to look at him. You drown in the depths of his dark eyes, the thick lashes fanning against sweat-grimed skin. His thumb brushes over your lip, so tender it makes you ache.

He spits in his palm, bringing it between your legs as you watch with curiosity. Sliding it over his cock, now glistening, you realize how much better it would feel that way. An act so filthy to make you feel less pain. Who was this man?

Guiding you over his cock, snugly fitting the head just inside, you prepare for his girth to split you apart. Instead he surprises you again, his spit-slicked thumb sliding between your folds and circling something that sparks ecstasy in your womb. You grab at his shoulders, jaw dropped as that soft expression turns devious, rocking into your heat further and further as his wicked thumb pulls forth pleasure you’d only felt a handful of times. 

“Pero,” you gasp, and his name from your lips flips something in him. He thrusts up sharply, pulling you to his chest as he fits his mouth to your neck. His lips are greedy, teeth scraping as he yanks you down on his lap, grinding up inside you. Banding his arm around your waist, he puts a hand in your hair to keep you right where he wants you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, rolling your hips in time with his thrusts. You’ve never been so bold but Pero’s growls and nips spur you to ride him. Everything between you is soaked, your arousal embarrassing if it weren’t for how good you felt. He’s groaning words you don’t understand into your skin, tugging down your shift to latch onto your nipple. The sharp press of his teeth as he rolls his tongue over the bud pulls a wretched moan out of your chest. He chuckles into the soft flesh, sucking softly before a harsher pull stutters your pace. 

Something is creeping up around the edges of your mind, a building that frightens you with how much you want it. Pero hammers deep into you, bellowing before he pulls out and splatters his seed on your thighs and the inside of your dress. You stroke through his hair, gasping as you try to come down from that mystifying high, but Pero’s thick fingers plunge inside your cunt as his thumb strums over that blinding place he found before. You choke on your own breath as he presses and strokes and just as that pressure breaks into shuddering ecstasy he crashes your lips to his. 

Pero kisses you through your throes, even when you’re sure you’ve bitten him, copper dancing on your tongue. He laps into your mouth, sucks your lower lip between his, murmuring something between gasps of air. When you finally slump against him, arms loose around his neck, he places a soft line of kisses along your shoulder, stroking your back as you try to breathe again.

“Pero, that was…” You try to explain any of how you feel, but as soon as you say his name he has you on your back in his bed, shift around your hips so the cool air can dance along your combined spends. His soulful eyes gaze down at you before his lips quirk into a devious little smile that makes your heart pound. He says something in his language, but don’t really need to translate:

“I’m not done with you yet.”

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[transgenderer]

The liver bird (/ˈlaɪvərbɜːrd/LY-vər-burd) is a mythical creature that is the symbol of the English city of Liverpool. It is normally represented as a cormorant, and appears as such on the city's arms, in which it bears a branch of laver seaweed in its beak as a further pun on the name "Liverpool".[1]

King John founded the borough of Liverpool by royal charter in 1207. The borough's second charter, granted by Henry III in 1229, gave the townspeople the right to form a guild with the privileges this came with, including the right to use a common seal.[2] Liverpool's ancient seal probably dated from this time, though the earliest surviving impression (kept in the British Museum) is from 1352.[2] The seal depicted a generic bird with a plant sprig in its beak, together with a scroll inscribed (in shaky letters) "JOHIS" - an abbreviation for Johannis, Latin for "John's".[2] The bird was almost certainly intended to be an eagle, the symbol of John the Evangelist, who was both the namesake and the patron saint of King John.[2] The plant sprig is interpreted as broom (planta genista in Latin), a badge of the Plantagenet dynasty.[3] Also visible on the seal is a star and crescent, one of King John's personal badges.[4]

The shoddy draughtsmanship of the seal has given rise to other theories. Richard Brooke, a 19th-century Liverpudlian antiquary, surmised that the bird was a dove with an olive branch, and that the scroll read "NOBIS" or "VOBIS".[5]

By the 17th century the bird's real identity had been forgotten: it began to be interpreted either as a cormorant, a common bird in the area, or as a "lever". In 1611 the municipal records describe the mayor receiving a plate "marked with the Cormorant, the Townes Armes", while in 1668 the Earl of Derby gifted the town a silver-gilt mace engraved with a "leaver".[2] In his 1688 work The Academie of Armorie, Randle Holme records the arms of Liverpool as a blue "lever" upon a silver field. Holme takes this word to be an adaptation of the German loffler or Dutch lepler/lefler, both referring to the spoonbill.[6] It is possible that these continental words were adopted for the bird in Liverpool's arms as they made a fitting allusion to the name "Liverpool".[2] Around the same time the broom sprig in the bird's beak was reinterpreted as a branch of laver, also on account of the similarity of the word to the city's name.

In August 1796 Mayor Clayton Tarleton wrote to the College of Arms to request an official grant of arms to the city. His letter called the bird "a lever or sea cormorant".[5] Arms were duly granted on 22 March 1797 by Sir Isaac Heard, Garter King of Arms, and George Harrison, Norroy King of Arms; however the grant described the bird only as a "cormorant".[7]

The modern popularity of the symbol largely dates to 1911, when the Liver Building was built. This prominent display of two liver birds rekindled the idea that the liver was a mythical bird that once haunted the local shoreline. According to popular legend, they are a male and female pair: the female looking out to sea, watching for the seamen to return safely home, and the male looking in to the city, watching over the seamen's families (or "making sure the pubs are open", as a jocular version has it). Local legend also holds that the birds face away from each other, for if they were to mate and fly away, the city would cease to exist

it took them less than 400 years to invent a bird called the "lever" (not even liver...?) to explain a shitty drawing of an eagle

also bonus:

An all female rock group from Liverpool called The Liverbirds was active in the '60s. They moved to Hamburg in 1964, where they were billed as die weiblichen Beatles (the female Beatles).

[lovelywritersgarden]

Ill adventures

James Potter x GN!Reader Oneshot

WC: 1229

SYNOPSIS: James decides it’s in his best interest to piss off the one person willing to take care of him whilst he’s ill.

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of being sick/ symptoms (vomit, fever, runny nose) James being a baby

James Potter is one of the kindest, bravest, strongest people you know. He is selfless and always wants to see his friends and family smile.

Until he gets sick.

When James invited you to stay at Potter Manor for the winter holiday, this is not what you had in mind. Towards the beginning, you, James and Sirius went ice skating at a lake outside of the nearby muggle town. When James refused to wear a scarf, like a child, because it would “slow him down”, you knew the inevitable would come. Not that you minded taking care of James when he was ill, it was a very entertaining experience. That didn’t make it an easy one.

So you watched as the cold turned his nose pink and Jack Frost nipped at his ears, and saw the beginning of the end as he wiped his nose and sniffled throughout the night.

The way this man does a full 360 the minute he coughs.

—

“Woe is me, darling!” He cries out. You roll your eyes as you pour hot chicken soup into a bowl. James’s symptoms were minimal. He had just come down with the common cold: sneezing, coughing, fever. Things that would be gone within a day or two. James, however, thought differently.

“James, I think you’re being a tad dramatic.”

“Save yourself, I’m a goner.” He flopped down onto the couch, thermometer hanging off his lip like a cartoon. Ice pack on his forehead and blanket tucked around him. And Merlin forbid- he sneezes. Start the funeral arrangements now.

You walk over, bowl in hand, and set it down on the table in front of the sofa.

“James.”

“My love, as I lay here on my deathbed-“

“Actually, it’s more like your death-couch.” You smile at the glare he sends you.

“I would like to make a formal request of where my things will go.” You hum in agreement. “Give Moony all of my books.”

“Do you have any books?” You laughed. James thought for a minute. Deciding it was better to ignore your antics, he continued.

“Leave my clothes to Sirius, he needs a better sense of style.”

“Oy!” Was called from the kitchen. Sirius Black refused to take this slander.

“You can’t wear a leather jacket forever, Pads!”

“Watch me!” Sirius called. “I’m glad you’re sick you daft deer.” he mumbled under his breath. Sirius huffed his way up to his bedroom, flipping off James as he passed. If the cold didn’t kill James, Sirius might.

Ignoring Sirius, James obnoxiously slurped the hot soup you made him.

“And for you, love, I leave my wand.”

“Ah. Can I have your broom instead?” You ask, clasping your hands together.

“No. I’m taking that with me.” Arse.

“Wh- nevermind.” You take the empty soup bowl from his hands and pull the ice pack off his forehead, feeling for a different temperature. James dodges away.

“Your hands are cold.” Your eye twitches in annoyance.

“Fine.” You check the clock on the wall.

James has faced evil wizards, school bullies, and even had death threats made to his family. However what you held in your hand, was the greatest enemy James has ever faced.

Liquid cold and flu medicine. The horror.

“NO!” He cried out, clutching his chest as the look of betrayal came over his face. “Why would you do this to me, my love?! On my deathbed-“

“-couch.”

“Why do you insist on this torture!”

“You need to take this medicine, or you won’t get better!” You poured the appropriate amount of the sticky red liquid into the clear cup. You hold it out to him. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t make a move to grab it. “James. FLEAMONT. Potter.”

James gasped like he had been stabbed. “But darling! It tastes like poison!”

“It is. I’m trying to speed this process along, so I can have your broom.” James stuffs himself further into the abyss of the couch in a futile attempt to hide from the horrid liquid.

“James, if you take this now, I will send Sirius to drop by the pharmacy to pick up the pills.” You said, circling the cup in front of him.

James followed the cup with his eyes, pondering. Then he sneezed and sniffled.

“You will never have to see this liquid again.” You said in a sing-song voice.

James begrudgingly took the cup from your hand and cringed as he glared at the cup with malice.

“Take it, Potter.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under.

Surprisingly, it only took one sip and it was down for good. You made him another cup of tea and changed the ice pack on his head. He held a pout on his face as he shivered and pulled the blanket as close to his chest as he could. You rubbed the top of his head lovingly.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling good baby,” You rested your hand on his face.

“‘Tis not your fault, love. Quite the opposite, you did warn me.” He closed his eyes under your touch.

“Well next time, you’ll just have to wear a scarf.” You chuckled.

“Maybe not. I like it when you take care of me.”

You kissed his forehead. “I’ll always take care of you. Now get some sleep, Jamie.”

You made sure the blanket was comfortably situated on him, and stood up to leave him to sleep. You turned to go, but got stopped when he grabbed your hand.

“Will you sleep with me?” He asked.

“Gee Jamie, take me to dinner first.” You laughed. “Only joking, scooch over.”

His eyes brightened up and he moved further into the couch. You hopped in under his arm and spooned till he fell asleep.

—

Come morning, James’s had pretty much gotten over his cold. He took a shower, changed and his fever had gone down the drain. He was on his way down the stairs when he heard it.

Sniff

At first he thought it could’ve been a trick of the mind, so when you denied it, he didn’t say anything.

Sniff

There it was again.

“Darling? Are you feeling alright? You sure you didn’t catch what I had?”

“James, you’re so paranoid. I am fine, see?” You flashed him a smile.

Two days later, you were throwing some laundry in a basket when James passed by with some medicine.

“Here darling.” He held it out to you.

“…James.”

“Y/N.”

“What would that be for?”

“Usually it’s used whenever people get sick.” and can admit it

“I’m not sick.”

Ah, denial. What a lovely place to be in. James knew it was a lie, however, because- as amazing as you always look- right now you sat in front of him with puffy eyes that had growing dark circles underneath, and a runny nose that had become irritated from your constant rubbing.

“Y/N, how can I get you to take this medicine?”

“Prove to me why I'm sick. What’s wrong with me, Potter?” You crossed your arms.

James laughed.

“Absolutely nothing darling, you cannot try and trick me so I forget about this. Please just take this for me, and we can get some soup in you.”

“James, I’m perfectly healthy. I just have some allergies. Probably from all the dust around here, you should really get on tha- tha- th- ACHOO!”

James raised an eyebrow.

“James.”

“Y/N.”

“I think I'm sick.”

———————————————————————————

A/N: God, I love this man. Hey guys! Welcome to my second post, I hope y’all enjoyed this :) I’m a big James girl myself, however i’m a sucker for all the marauders. I’m going to be starting a series soon for one of the marauders, so if you have any requests they might be slower to upload, however I am so pleased with the way this turned out. Pt. 2? ugh comforting fluff always gets me. Anyways, see ya later!

[hersie44]

Family (Derek Hale)

Characters included: Derek Hale, Elijah Hale

Requested: No

Type: Angst, Fluff

Reader gender: Female

Word count: 1229 words

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR TEEN WOLF MOVIE

“If anything happens to me, look after them.” The words rung in my ears as the scene played out before me, Derek offering to hold the Nogitsune so that Parrish could burn him. My screams fell on deaf ears as Elijah held me back, I kicked and clawed to get out of his arms, but it was no use. He burst into flames right before our eyes, for a moment I saw his blue eyes turn red before he disappeared before me completely. I couldn’t stop the tears as they fell, holding onto our son’s arms as he held me.

Before that night, we were a family. Far from perfect, in fact our son had seemed to cause so much trouble in our small town that we were constantly busy or had something to talk about. I could see how Derek tried to be a good father, a far gentler man than he was when we first met. Of course, sometimes the old Derek shined through which made me try not to laugh when he was being serious with Elijah.

“How many more times are you going to steal that jeep before the sheriff actually arrests you?” The door slammed shut after those words left Derek’s mouth, I didn’t look up from my book as they’ve had this conversation many times. Elijah had a fixation on Stiles’ old jeep, constantly stealing it for a joy ride.

“We are just trying to understand you.” That was another classic line in this house, but it was the truth. He refused to tell us why he was acting out or why he was dead set on the jeep, even when he and I managed to have a calm conversation about it. This was when I put down my book and looked up at our son, he looked so much like his father that I was almost upset considering I carried him for nine months.

“Elijah, why don’t you go to your room so your dad and I can talk?”

“Finally.” He stomped off, his door slamming shut behind him making my husband sigh.

“He got that attitude from you.” I smiled at him, opening my arms invitingly. Derek walked around to the couch and sat next to me, I rolled my eyes and pulled him into my arms. Even after being together for so many years I still I had to initiate the soft side of intimacy, which I didn’t mind since I knew when Derek needed it most. He finally relaxed, letting out a soft sigh as he rested his head on my chest when I laid back.

“I don’t understand why he keeps doing this, is it me?” I sighed, rubbing his back as I thought about what to say.

“I wasn’t exactly a goody-two-shoes as a teen either, maybe he just inherited my behaviour.” The suggestion wasn’t totally impossible, my family had a track record of being rebellious in their teen years which often led us into lots of trouble. This manages to make Derek chuckle which sends a tingle down my spine, we’ve been together for so long yet the smallest things about him make me fall in love all over again.

“If that’s true then we’re definitely not having any more kids.” I could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Too late for that, wolfy.” This made him look up at me, almost like he was studying my face to see if I was lying. I held his gaze with my own, waiting for him to put two and two together.

“You’re pregnant.” He stated plainly but I could tell that it shocked him. We didn’t plan to have Elijah; he was a surprise early on in our relationship and after him we didn’t speak about having more kids. But recently with all the stress that Elijah had been giving Derek, I had been giving him…we will call it relief. A place to release his frustrations which has now resulted in my surprise.

“Yes, I was at the doctor this morning to make sure.” When his hand laid flat on my stomach, I could tell he was happy with the news, this was the same reaction he had when I told him about my pregnancy with Elijah. He smiled softly up at me, his thumb caressing my stomach. I couldn’t hold myself back in the moment, I leaned down and kissed him.

The kiss held a lot of emotions, it had a certain intensity that you had to get used to when kissing Derek Hale. An intensity that you come to love when you are Mrs Hale.

He was the first to pull away, his hand now caressing my cheek while his forehead rested against mine. In our little bubble was only happiness, our family was growing and I for one couldn’t wait to see Derek holding a baby in his arms again. Even if this baby looked exactly like him again, I would love them even more, I wanted to love them so much that it made up for the family that Derek lost. I wanted to give him a family that was filled with love, the one that he had deserved for so long. The family we had now had its ups and downs, but we loved each other dearly, and that’s all the both of us could ask for. In that moment, the world seemed to finally fall into place again.

“You should go tell our son.” I kissed his nose, a certain sweetness in my voice to coax him out of my arms. He let out a quiet huff, making me giggle as he got up. I watched him take Elijah’s lacrosse stick and walk towards his room…

“Mom, mom…” Elijah’s voice snapped me out of my trance, my eyes snapped to him, and I put on a smile as I saw him standing in a suit that was clearly too big for him. I walked over to him, helping him tuck in his white shirt while he huffed and whined.

“You look just like him.” I straightened his tie and looked up into his eyes, seeing the sadness he was trying to hide.

“Yeah, right. Dad was way more buff, that’s why this doesn’t fit.” I laughed at this; it was true that the suit hung loosely on his frame, but it looked good none the less.

“Maybe if you didn’t change your mind last minute before graduation then we could have got it tailored.”

“I know but I don’t mind…it…smells like him.” My breath got caught in my throat, I hadn’t touched the suit since Derek and I had gotten married. I never had to since I could always just reach out to him, to be held in his arms but now it had been two years since…

“Oh shit! Talia is crying.” I watched as he jogged up the stairs, chasing his little sister’s cries. This made me laugh, he definitely reminded me of his father now. It was in these moments I could feel Derek in the room with me, watching over us as we continued with our lives. I was looking after our children like he asked, and his son was stepping up to be the man…the wolf of the house. I missed him dearly, and I know he missed us but one day we shall meet again.

[girl-next-door-writes]

There Is Just One Thing I Need

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Tony tries to get the team into the festive spirit while training. The only problem for Steve is that everyone knows his weakness, well, nearly everyone.

Word Count: 1229 words

Prompt: #6: A and B have a snowball fight (bonus if A flirts with B to distract B)

A/N: My fantastic and wonderful bestie @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester requested this little bit of Steve and I would write her pretty much anything, so here you all go.

“This is the stupidest idea ever, just saying.” Grumbled Clint as he pulled on his gloves, already anticipating the chill in the air.

“You’re just saying that because the only ‘weapon’ we can use is snowballs.” Wanda chuckled, pulling his hat down over his face.

“Okay, we ready? This is it, the festive showdown so partner up and let’s see who is last team standing.” Tony grinned, already moving over to claim Rhodey as his partner.

“I call Barnes!” You shouted before jumping onto Bucky’s back, much to his amusement.

“Easy there, doll, I’m an old man, remember?” he chuckled, and Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Clint and Nat buddied up, as did Wanda and Vision. Scott and Bruce made an unlikely pairing and Sam patted his friend on his shoulder.

“Looks like it’s you and me.” He smirked, knowing full well Steve would have loved to swap places with Bucky. “Come on, you might impress her yet.”

Logically, Wanda and Vision were the team to beat, so Steve was incredibly surprised when Bruce and Scott ensured Vis was first to get hit. Surprised and a little impressed. Now that the hot favourites were out of the competition, that meant it was anyone’s game.

The next casualties were Nat and Clint. This was only because Clint was 1000% done with the stupid game. He was cold, he was damp, he was grumpy, so when he stood out in the open, arms spread wide, and shouted for someone to just hit him already, it wasn’t a surprise when he was pelted by six snowballs almost instantly.

“Worth it.” He grumbled, trudging back towards the compound where he could get warm and have a drink. Turned out Nat was not so happy about losing and her teammate was hit by several rather large snowballs before he made it inside.

From his vantage point, Steve watched you stealthily rounding a snowdrift and he wondered where Bucky was. Surely he had your back, right? Movement caught his eye, and he stiffened as he saw Bruce attempting to draw your attention. That could not be good. A protective streak rose within Steve, the desire to save you, even from snow, had him on high alert and that was why he spotted a tiny Scott running over the snow in your direction. He was little more than a dark speck against the white, but Steve calculated the trajectory and pulled his arm back, tossing a well packed ball of snow which landed against Scott’s shoulder as he shot back to his full height a few feet from you.

“Seriously?” He called out, turning to look around for Bucky, who he was sure had thrown it.

“Nice try, Lang. Turns out, your ‘ant powers’ are nothing compared to Super Soldier ones.” You teased with a bright smile before your eyes retraced the path of the snowball and you spotted Steve and ducked for cover.

“ON YOUR LEFT!” Steve barely dodged out of the way as a snowball sped past him.

“Thanks for the warning.” He called back to Sam, knowing he needed to get his head back in the game.

“Yeah, well, you might have seen that coming if you weren’t so busy making heart eyes at your girl.” Sam smirked, appearing by his side.

“She’s not my girl.” Steve corrected him, a hint of sadness in his tone.

“Well, whose fault is that?”

Before he could answer, a barrage of snowballs pelted the wall behind them like machine gun fire.

“You’re not allowed to use your suit, Tony!” Sam shouted as he pulled Steve around the corner. “Right, I’ll go up high, you go low. Tony’s a problem but Rhodey’s smart so be careful.”

Sam had been right, it was Rhodey who was the mastermind behind the Iron-boys strategy, and they would have had them too, if it hadn’t been for Bucky. Tony was so focused on pinning down Cap that the other super soldier was able to sneak up and get the drop on him. Not only was there a snowball, but also a small avalanche from the roof, burying Stark momentarily.

“Don’t think you got away with that one, Barnes. When you least expect it, I will have my revenge.” Tony vowed, using his suit to fly up to the roof and take a seat where he could see everything more clearly.

Only two pairs were left, and both were playing it warily. Steve and Sam split-up, Wilson eager to take down Barnes. With a snowball in hand, Steve carefully made his way along the wall, listening out for any movement.

You rounded the corner of the building and froze, your arm raised, holding a snowball. Steve’s posture matched your own and he eyed you cautiously. Maybe, if he waited long enough, Sam would take Bucky out and then he wouldn’t have to do this to you. Then again, would you think less of him for holding back?

“Hi Steve.” You smirked, and he swallowed thickly at hearing you say his name.

“Hi.” He managed, neither of you lowering your weapon.

“That snowball earlier, the one that took out Lang, that was you, right?” He knew you’d already figured out that much, so he simply nodded.

“Thought so. Was it meant for me, and Scott was just in the wrong place at the wrong time or..?” You raised an eyebrow and his eyes drifted to the soft pout of your lips as you trailed off, the question left unasked.

“What do you think?” He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“I think that you saw a damsel about to be in distress and your ‘old man’ sensibilities kicked in. Not that I’m complaining. I’m rather fond of your sensibilities, amongst other things.” Your voice was like warm honey and Steve leaned closer, not registering you walking towards him.

“Is that right? Care to elaborate on the ‘other things’?”

“You fishing for compliments, handsome?”

“More like, clarification.” He hummed, his arm slowly lowering.

“Well, one of the things I really like about you, Steve, is how you protect the little guy. Although, in this case, it’s kinda been your undoing.”

“Wha-?“ A sudden cold, wet thud to the back of his head broke off his thoughts and as ice began to drip down the back of his neck he let out a defeated sigh, followed by a chuckle.

“Told ya that would work, doll.” Bucky grinned, jogging over to the pair of you. “You are one hell of a distraction.”

“Well, some distractions are more fun than others.” You smiled sweetly up at Steve, patting him on the chest before turning to walk away.

“They certainly are.” Steve murmured to himself, just watching your retreating form. Perhaps you had enjoyed flirting with him, and if that was the case then maybe he could attempt to play you at your own game.

[steddieficfind]

Hi the fic I'm looking for is an ABO fic where omega steve was sold to corroded coffin by his parents. It was just recently updated I think

Request 1229! Send us an ask if you recognize this fic!

[anders-thelka]

My name is Cole, I'm disabled, living on ODSP and am in need of assistance.

this is my current financial situation. I'm working on doing work for a company that pays to do video captioning, but I would still appreciate any assistance to get myself back on my feet.

anyone who sends $5+ will receive art from me. Just DM me here or on discord (coleheinous#1229) with proof and I'll get to work on your request.

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any and all help is appreciated, as are reblogs. Thank you in advance

[iqmarketinsights]

Wireless Audio Equipment Market Market Innovations: Mapping Growth and Share till 2031

The comprehensive analysis report on global “Wireless Audio Equipment Market market "Wireless Audio Equipment Market market" trends encompasses a thorough study of the ongoing growth factors driving the Wireless Audio Equipment Market market, the current market scenario, development status, and future opportunities. The market size of the Wireless Audio Equipment Market segment is predicted based on a detailed analysis of types, applications, and end-use industry segments. The report incorporates effective strategies within the business framework aimed at improving the growth rate of the industry. Additionally, the forecast report on the Wireless Audio Equipment Market market provides complete information regarding industry production, sales, consumption status, and market prospects, along with an in-depth Wireless Audio Equipment Market market share analysis.

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The global Wireless Audio Equipment Market size was valued at USD 25259.55 million in 2024 and is anticipated to reach USD 48930.60 million by 2031, witnessing a CAGR of 9.7% during the forecast period.

Global Key Manufacturers Covered in Wireless Audio Equipment Market Market:

Apple Inc. (U.S.)

Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd. (South Korea)

Sony Corporation (Japan)

Voxx International Corporation (U.S.)

Bose Corporation (U.S.)

Sonos (U.S.)

Dei Holdings (U.S.)

Sennheiser Electronic GmbH & Co. Kg (Germany)

Vizio, Inc (U.S.)

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Headphones

Headsets

Speaker Systems

Soundbars

Microphones

Others

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Commercial

Consumer

Automotive

Others

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Europe

Asia-Pacific

Rest of the World (RoW)

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The report covers forecast and analysis for the market on a global and regional level.

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[lokesh-infinium]

Dye-sensitized Solar Cell Market Soars to New Heights, Exceeding $320 Million in 2030

A Dye-sensitized Solar Cell (DSSC) functions as a thin-film solar cell that utilizes sunlight to produce electricity, employing an innovative design featuring a photosensitive dye. DSSCs present a cost-effective and flexible alternative to traditional silicon-based solar cells. The core principle of DSSCs lies in converting solar energy into electrical current by initiating electron transfer through the use of a light-absorbing dye. Central to the DSSC structure is a semiconductor layer, typically comprised of titanium dioxide nanoparticles, serving as the electron transport material. This layer is coated with a thin application of the photosensitive dye, often synthetic or natural, crucial for efficient sunlight absorption. Sunlight interaction with the DSSC results in the dye absorbing photons, becoming electronically excited, and triggering the release of electrons.

To Know More Request Sample of this Report@ https://www.infiniumglobalresearch.com/market-reports/sample-request/1229

These liberated electrons traverse the semiconductor layer towards the electrodes, generating an electric current. Placed between two electrodes, usually made of conductive glass, the semiconductor layer's electron flow produces an electrical potential difference. One electrode collects and transfers electrons to the external circuit, while the other electrode completes the circuit by accepting electrons from the external circuit. DSSCs offer advantages such as easy fabrication, potential transparency, and design versatility, making them suitable for applications emphasizing flexibility and low-cost production.

The dye-sensitized solar cell market is predominantly influenced by the escalating reliance on unconventional energy sources. As global energy demands rise, a shift towards non-traditional and sustainable energy solutions is evident, driving market expansion. Increasing concerns about carbon emissions further fuel market growth, with a focus on clean and renewable energy sources to mitigate climate change effects. However, challenges like low photoelectric conversion efficiency and stability issues hinder widespread adoption, necessitating solutions for sustained growth. Technology advancements present opportunities for market growth, with ongoing research and innovation expected to enhance cell efficiency and stability, overcoming limitations and opening new avenues.

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Global segmentation places Europe at the forefront of the dye-sensitized solar cell market, driven by the region's commitment to renewable energy. European countries lead in adopting clean energy technologies, aligning with ambitious climate goals and environmental policies. Europe's robust research and development landscape, along with collaborations between academia and industry, positions it as a hub for DSSC technology advancements. North America also commands a significant market share due to its technological prowess and innovation ecosystem, fostering advancements in solar energy technologies. Growing awareness and commitment to renewable energy further stimulate market growth in North America, aligning with the increasing demand for clean and eco-friendly energy solutions in both business and consumer sectors.

Key Market Players:

Sharp Corporation

Peccell Technologies, Inc.

G24 Power Ltd.

Fujikura Ltd.

Ricoh Company Ltd.

Solaronix SA

Dyenamo AB

Exeger Operations AB Oxford Photovoltaics

Nissha Co., Ltd..

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The report provides deep insights into demand forecasts, market trends, and micro and macro indicators. In addition, this report provides insights into the factors that are driving and restraining the growth in this market. Moreover, The IGR-Growth Matrix analysis given in the report brings an insight into the investment areas that existing or new market players can consider. The report provides insights into the market using analytical tools such as Porter's five forces analysis and DRO analysis of the dye-sensitized solar cell market. Moreover, the study highlights current market trends and provides forecasts from 2023-2030. We also have highlighted future trends in the market that will affect the demand during the forecast period. Moreover, the competitive analysis given in each regional market brings an insight into the market share of the leading players.

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[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Wednesday, December 6, 2023

november 23_december 6

REPOSE OF HOLY PRINCE ALEXANDER NEVSKY (1263)

The Holy Prince Alexander Nevsky was born on May 30, 1220 in the city of Pereslavl-Zalessk. His father Yaroslav II, Theodore in Baptism (+1246), “a gentle, kindly and genial prince”, was the younger son of Vsevolod III Large Nest (+ 1212), brother of the Holy Prince Yuri Vsevolodovich (February 4). Saint Alexander’s mother, Theodosia Igorevna, a Ryazan princess, was Yaroslav’s third wife. Their older son was the Holy Prince Theodore (June 5), who departed to the Lord at age fifteen. Saint Alexander was their second son.

His childhood was spent at Pereslavl-Zalessk, where his father was prince. The princely tonsure of the lad Alexander (a ceremony of initiation to be soldier) was done in the Savior Transfiguration Cathedral of Pereslavl by Saint Simon, Bishop of Suzdal (May 10), one of the compilers of the Kiev Caves Paterikon (Lives of the Fathers). From this Elder-hierarch, Saint Alexander received his first blessing for military service in the name of God, to defend the Russian Church and the Russian Land.

In 1227 Prince Yaroslav, at the request of the people of Novgorod, was sent by his brother Yuri, the Great Prince of Vladimir, to rule as prince in Novgorod the Great. He took with him his sons, Saints Theodore and Alexander. Dissatisfied with the Vladimir princes, the people of Novgorod soon invited Saint Michael of Chernigov (September 20), and in February 1229 Yaroslav with his sons departed to Pereslavl. The matter ended peacefully: in 1230 Yaroslav with his sons returned to Novgorod, and Saint Michael’s daughter Theodosia was betrothed to Saint Theodore, the elder brother of Saint Alexander. After the death of the bridegroom in 1233 the young princess went to a monastery and became famous in monastic exploits as the nun Saint Euphrosynē of Suzdal (September 25).

From his early years Saint Alexander went along on his father’s campaigns. In 1235 he participated in a battle at the River Emajogi (in present-day Estonia), where the forces of Yaroslav totally routed the Germans. In the following year Yaroslav went to Kiev, “settling” his son, Saint Alexander, to rule independently as prince at Novgorod. In 1239 Saint Alexander entered into marriage, taking as wife the daughter of the Polotsian prince Briacheslav. Some histories relate that the day the princess was baptized was the Name Day of her saintly spouse, and she was named Alexandra. His father, Yaroslav, blessed them at betrothal with the holy wonderworking icon of the Theodore Mother of God (the father was named Theodore in Baptism). Afterwards, Saint Alexander constantly prayed before this icon. Later, it was taken from the Gorodetsk Monastery, where he died, by his brother Basil of Kostroma (+1276), and transferred to Kostroma.

A very troublesome time had begun in Russian history: from the East came the Mongol Horde destroying everything in their path; from the West came the forces of the Teutonic Knights, which blasphemously and with the blessing of the Roman Pope, called itself “Cross-bearers” by wearing the Cross of the Lord. In this terrible hour the Providence of God raised up for the salvation of Russia holy Prince Alexander, a great warrior, man of prayer, ascetic and upholder of the Land of Russia. “Without the command of God there would not have been his prince.”

Abetted by the invasion of Batu, by the ruin of Russian cities, by the dismay and grief of the nation, by the destruction of its finest sons and leaders, a horde of crusaders made incursions into the borders of Russia. First were the Swedes. “A king of Roman faith from the midnight land,” Sweden, in 1240 gathered a great armed force and sent them to the Neva on many ships under the command of his son-in-law, Yarl (Prince) Birger. The haughty Swede sent his messengers to Novgorod to say to Saint Alexander: “Fight me if you have the courage, for I am already here and I am taking your land captive.”

Saint Alexander, then not yet twenty years old, prayed a long time in the church of Saint Sophia, the Wisdom of God. He recited the Psalm of David, saying: “Judge, O Lord, those who injure me, fight against those who fight against me. Take hold of shield and buckler, and rise up to help me” (Ps. 34/35). Archbishop Spyridon blessed the holy prince and his army for the battle. Leaving the church, Saint Alexander exhorted his troops with words of faith: “The power of God is not in numbers, but in truth.” With a smaller force, trusting in the Holy Trinity, the prince hastened towards the enemy to await help from his father, not knowing whether the enemy would attack, nor when.

But there was a miraculous omen: at dawn on July 15 the warrior Pelgui, in Baptism Philip, saw a boat, and on it were the Holy Martyrs Boris and Gleb, in royal purple attire. Boris said: “Brother Gleb, let us help our kinsman Alexander.” When Pelgui reported the vision to the prince, Saint Alexander commanded that no one should speak about the miracle. Emboldened by this, he urged the army to fight valiantly against the Swedes.

“There was a great slaughter of the Latins, and a countless multitude was killed, and their leader was left with a mark upon his face from a sharp spear.” An angel of God invisibly helped the Orthodox army: when morning came, on the opposite bank of the River Izhora, where the army of Saint Alexander was unable to proceed, was a multitude of the slain enemy. Because of this victory at the River Neva on July 15, 1240, the nation called the saint Alexander Nevsky.

The Teutonic Knights remained a dangerous enemy. In a lightning-quick campaign in 1241 Saint Alexander recaptured the ancient Russian fortress of Kopore, expelling the knights. But in 1242, the Germans succeeded capturing Pskov. The enemy boasted of “subjecting all the Slavic nation.” Saint Alexander, setting forth in a winter campaign, liberated Pskov, that ancient home of the Holy Trinity, and in spring of the year 1242 fought a decisive battle against the Teutonic Order. On the ice of Lake Chud both armies clashed on April 5, 1242. Raising his hands towards the heavens, Saint Alexander prayed: “Judge me, O God, and judge my strife with a boastful nation and grant help to me, O God, as to Moses of old against Amalek, and to my great-grandfather Yaroslav the Wise against accursed Svyatopolk.”

By his prayer, by the help of God, and by military might the Crusaders were completely destroyed. There was a terrible slaughter, and there was such a crashing of striking spears and swords that it seemed as though the frozen lake were in motion and not solid ice, since it was covered with blood. When they turned to flee, the enemy was pursued and slashed by Alexander’s army “as if they sped through the air, and there was nowhere for the enemy to flee.” Later, they led a multitude of captives behind the holy prince, marching in disgrace.

Contemporaries clearly understood the universal historical significance of the Great Battle of the Ice, and the name of Saint Alexander was celebrated throughout Holy Russia, “through all the lands, from the Egyptian Sea to Mount Ararat, from both sides of the Varangian Sea to Great Rome.”

The western boundaries of the Russian land were safely secured, and it was time to guard Russia from the East. In 1242 Saint Alexander Nevsky and his father Yaroslav journeyed to the Horde. Metropolitan Cyril blessed them for this new service of many hardships: it was necessary to turn the Tatars from enemies and plunderers into honorable allies, and this required “the meekness of an angel and the wisdom of a snake.”

The Lord crowned the holy mission of the defenders of the Russian land with success, but this required years of hardship and sacrifice. Having made an alliance with Khan Batu, Prince Yaroslav was required to travel to faraway Mongolia, to the capital of all the nomadic empire. The situation of Batu himself being precarious, he sought the support of the Russian princes, wishing to break with his own Golden Horde from faraway Mongolia. And there in turn, they trusted neither Batu nor the Russians.

Prince Yaroslav was poisoned. He died in agony, surviving the Holy Martyr Michael of Chernigov, whose relative he nearly became, by only ten days. Since his father bequeathed him an alliance with the Golden Horde, it was necessary for Saint Alexander Nevsky to hold fast to it in order to avert a new devastation of Russia. Sartak, the son of Batu, had accepted Christianity, and was in charge of Russian affairs with the Horde. He became his friend, and like a brother to him. Vowing his support, Saint Alexander allowed Batu to launch a campaign against Mongolia, to become the chief power in all the Great Steppes, and to raise up the Tatar Christian leader, Khan Munke (most of his Tatar Christians were Nestorians) on the throne in Mongolia.

Not all the Russian princes possessed the wisdom of Saint Alexander Nevsky. Many hoped for European help in the struggle against the Mongol Yoke. Saint Michael of Chernigov, Prince Daniel of Galich, and Andrew, Saint Alexander’s brother, conducted negotiations with the Roman Pope. But Saint Alexander well knew the fate of Constantinople, seized and devastated by Crusaders in the year 1204. His own personal experience taught him not to trust the West. The alliance of Daniel of Galich with the Pope, giving him nothing in return, was a betrayal of Orthodoxy, a unia with Rome. Saint Alexander did not want this to happen to his Church.

When ambassadors of the Roman Pope appeared in 1248 to seduce him also, he wrote in answer that the Russians were faithful to the Church of Christ and to the belief of the Seven Ecumenical Councils: “These we know very well, but we do not accept your teaching.” Catholicism was unsuitable for the Russian Church, and a unia signified a rejection of Orthodoxy, a rejection of the source of spiritual life, a rejection of the historical future foreordained by God, and the dooming of itself to spiritual death.

In the year 1252 many Russian cities rose up against the Tatar Yoke, supporting Andrew Yaroslavich. The situation was very risky. Again there arose a threat to the very existence of Russia. Saint Alexander had to journey to the Horde once more, in order to prevent a punitive Tatar incursion on the Russian lands. Defeated, Andrew fled to the Swedes seeking the help of those very robbers whom his great brother had crushed with the help of God at the Neva.

Saint Alexander became the ruling Great Prince of All Rus: Vladimir, Kiev and Novgorod. A great responsibility before God and history lay upon his shoulders. In 1253, he repelled a new German incursion against Pskov; in 1254 he made a treaty with Norway concerning peacetime borders; in 1256 he went on a campaign to the Finnish land. The chronicler called it “the dark campaign,” because the Russian army went along through the polar night, “going to impassable places, unable to see either day or night”. Into the darkness of paganism Saint Alexander brought the light of Gospel preaching and Orthodox culture. All the coastal region was enlightened and opened up by the Russians.

In 1256 Khan Batu died, and soon his son Sartak was poisoned, the one who was like a brother to Alexander Nevsky. The holy prince journeyed a third time to Sarai in order to confirm peaceful relations of Rus and the Horde with the new Khan, Berke. Although the successor to Batu had accepted Islam, he needed the alliance with Orthodox Rus. In 1261, by the diligent efforts of Saint Alexander and Metropolitan Cyril, a diocese of the Russian Orthodox Church was established at Sarai, the capital of the Golden Horde.

There followed an epoch of great Christianization of the pagan East, and Saint Alexander Nevsky prophetically speculated about the historical vocation of Rus. The holy prince used every possibility to uplift his native land and the ease its allotted cross. In 1262 by his decree in many of the cities the Tatar collectors of tribute and the conscription of soldiers were stopped. They waited for a Tatar reprisal. But the great intercessor of the nation again journeyed to the Horde and he wisely directed the event into quite another channel. Having been dismissed for the uprising of the Russians, Khan Berke ceased to send tribute to Mongolia and proclaimed the Golden Horde an independent entity, making it a veritable shield for Russia from the East. In this great uniting of the Russian and Tatar lands and peoples the future multi-national Russian State was matured and strengthened. Later, within the bounds of the Russian Church, was encompassed nearly the entire legacy of Ghenghis Khan to the coasts of the Pacific Ocean.

This diplomatic journey of Saint Alexander Nevsky to Sarai was his fourth and last. The future of Rus was rescued, his duty before God was fulfilled. But his power was wholly devoted, and his life put to the service of the Russian Church. On the return journey from the Horde Saint Alexander fell deathly ill. Unable to reach Vladimir, in a monastery at Gorodets the prince-ascetic gave up his spirit to the Lord on November 14, 1263, completing his difficult earthly path by receiving the monastic schema with the name of Alexis.

Metropoltan Cyril, the spiritual Father and companion of the holy prince, said in the funeral eulogy: “Know, my child, that already the sun has set for the land of Suzdal. There will be no greater prince in the Russian land.” They took his holy body to Vladimir, the journey lasted nine days, and the body remained undecayed.

On November 23, before his burial at the Nativity Monastery in Vladimir, there was manifest by God “a wondrous miracle and worthy of memory.” When the body of Saint Alexander was placed in the crypt, the steward Sebastian and Metropolitan Cyril wanted to take his hand, in order to put in it the spiritual gramota (document of absolution). The holy prince, as though alive, reached out his hand and took the document from the hand of the Metropolitan. “Because of their terror, and they were barely able to stumble from his tomb. Who would not be astonished at this, since he was dead and the body was brought from far away in the winter time.”

Thus did God glorify the saintly Soldier-Prince Alexander Nevsky. The universal Church glorification of Saint Alexander Nevsky took place under Metropolitan Macarius at the Moscow Cathedral in 1547. The Canon to the saint was compiled at that time by the monk Michael of Vladimir.

GALATIANS 5:22-6:2

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. 24 And those who are Christ's have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. 26 Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

1 Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted. 2 Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

MATTHEW 11:27-30

27 All things have been delivered to Me by My Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father. Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and the one to whom the Son wills to reveal Him. 28 Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

[goddamnwebcomics]

How long is "too long", anyway?

You know, I previously asked what your limit is (you said it’s “about 1000 pages”). Yet, four of the comics you riffed (Alien Dice, Dominic Deegan, Gene Catlow and Spinerette) go past that limit—in fact, those first three are well over 3000 pages.

But I get it, reviewing long-ass comics that just meander on and on gets tiring after a while. So, I did a little digging, and I found 28 webcomics on your rifflist that go past your threshold, all of them still updating regularly (there might be more, these were just the ones that were listed on Piperka). They are, from shortest to longest:

The Rock Cocks (1004 pages), Exiern (1106), Slightly Damned (1120), Mokepon (1181), TwoKinds (1229), Sequential Art (1234), League of Super Redundant Heroes (1284), Sandra and Woo (1373), Latchkey Kingdom (1596), Megatokyo (1608), Rival Angels (1637), Ennui GO! (1801), Namesake (1927), Bittersweet Candy Bowl (2057), The Lounge (2156), Shortpacked! (2164), Housepets! (2206), Endtown (2523), Ava’s Demon (2712), Faux Pas (2778), Drowtales (2799), Yosh! (2867), Carry On (2884), El Goonish Shive (3190), Girl Genius (3258), Addictive Science (3342), Dumbing of Age (4419) and—far and away the longest—Buddies in Big Places (8029).

Additionally, there are two more comics that pass your limit but have officially concluded: Penny and Aggie (1160) and Misfile (4106).

Now, I’m not saying that you should torch all of these from the rifflist; some comics like Slightly Damned, TwoKinds, Sandra and Woo and Bittersweet Candy Bowl would provide an interesting riff, since they either toe the line of quality or have a lot of shit to talk about. Additionally, I know some of these were reader requests, so I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes too much. However, I do think it’d be best to consider when something is just not worth making a commitment for, which comics are boring on top of being insufferably long.

....wait, why the fuck did I do a full brainfart? Obviously the comics I’ve riffed are more than 1000 pages! How stupid could I have been?

Thank you for informing me about these lengths, I am surprised many of these comics are so long, especially Buddies in Big Places, hurgh.

New limit is 10,000. No more, no less.

[gyujeongfmd]

famed verification — solo

summary — hayi’s solo, full melody & arrangement warnings — none wc — 1229

whatever’s going on in his current life: it’s all pressed on pause.

each day comes with a harrowing reminder that he’s booked. has shit to do, yet the list never ends when his notes are scrawled with cheapened handwriting of different projects here and there that he’s signed onto. bc, gold star — the two companies that hold the bane of his existence within each request for a different beat, a different song. something new and fresh, yet enough to hold the current fan base stable.

he hates it. it being defined as being the perpetual sell out that creates music for money — a stark contrast to how this all began. yet, despite any inner turmoil, he’s still landed himself right down the streak of different songs lined for different groups. nothing’s changed, and today’s no different when he marches into his home studio, nothing more than another cup of iced coffee standing in his vicinity, a senile cat that stares him down from across the room, and the same damn notebook that becomes the blueprint of his days.

there’s one group, then there’s another. there’s a soloist, then another — he comes to tell himself he’s become less of a no man, and more of a yes signing different contractual obligations his body can’t keep out with. technically, he should be drowning — strip the artist of any creative freedom, and leave him starving for more. except, it turns to be the opposite when the images are already heavily engrained in his head, and he remembers nothing more than the lamenting meetings going through what’s needed of each track.

it feels like he’s at a standstill, except he’s not when his eyes scan through the different to-dos. a few, he avoids in the entirety, and a few, he’s already started the draft for. (creative freedom, and inability to focus on one thing for too long leaves him with too many drafts, not enough finishes).

so, he decides something new.

one name points on the list, hayi’s solo. truth be told, there’s an feeling hinging on his stomach that tells him to forget the contract and let her be within the monotony of any other bc track. then, there’s the other of something he refuses to call loyalty that leads him to contemplate what he can manage with what he’s got left in his head.

so, he compromises, finding some drafts he’s created in the folder of different songs. reggae, tossed out. city pop, not for her. some weird latin music mix he created in the spur of the moment after learning to take one shot of tequila, yeah — that shit’s out.

somehow, he lands back on the different samples of ultraviolet tracks he’s crafted. in turn, what becomes is another same iteration of an edm song gone awry. it doesn’t phase him, at least — not when hours go into the process. pull out a mic, and somehow he’s gotten himself the beginnings of a guide vocal when he begins the song softly, humming a tune that drags on longer than the buildup itself.

it’s an elegance to the beginning, the edges feathered out when he lightens the words to a brisk murmur at the ends. like writing with an actual fountain pen that’s hinging on it’s last trace of ink. the mumbles drop, and in his mind, he relegates it to dropping a coin on top of a buliding and turning away from the aftermath before the big boom.

the big boom comes in waves when he hits contrast with the different intonation now peaking upwards instead of down. it’s a rollercoaster. a juxtaposition of contradictions when the melody begins downhill only to fall straight upward with a buildup of a voice, bolstering louder.

he re-records the guide vocals, no lyrics. it all just poses itself in mumbles and hums, his voice still exacerbating through the different echoes of growing louder. each piece finesses itself into a great buildup — one he knows becomes stereotypical of all ultraviolet songs: the beat drop. no melody there, instead, he harnesses the steady cavity of the loud beats echoed through the speakers of the room. it’s like some makeshift gangnam club, at least from what he hears in story.

big notes that blast through dance, in all it’s e-flat glory. there’s some touch of confidence that blooms through the power drop, contradicts the subtle introversion that bleeds the beginning.

he keeps the bpm slow and steady, there’s an emphasis he puts at the drop. no rhyme or reason aside from the fact that it becomes the status quo of any edm song he’s created in his lifetime. and it’s another to add to the list.

yet, still not enough to deter him. because in hindsight, the hours spent in the morning become relegated to nothing more than re-recording the guiding melody through each burst of voice and docile contrast the carry throughout the basis of the beat.

contradictions is what he lands on.

a few days of listening to the song, ditching it. only to fall back to the tracks, there’s the contradiction he wants to keep. it’s the lack of confidence that builds into the burst of noise that contains the chorus.

yet, somehow amongst the contradictions, he manages to cut corners. it’s the base, the template carved through the verse into the chorus in the beginning, only to shove in room for some semblance of a rap in between the lines of a shitty excuse for a hiphop line drawn down. the only piece to topple after falls back into the stark insert of the chorus, and beat change back into the edm-heavy lines.

then, to the bridge.

and it becomes a process of habit rather than creativity with how the song poses itself into the lines of any other track in his folder. the bridge leans back into the bolstered notes of more heavy edm.

leaning back into his chair, and he listens to what’s possessed in the screen. it’s concise, packs a punch rendered incoherent with inconsistencies. it’s a fluid motion of different emotions played through the different connotations of genres. the verses lined in pop, the lack of confidence. the build up that paints a picture of tasteful arrogance. the mini-rap held together in meekness in hiphop. then, the finale that lines boldness through it’s power.

he’s not certain it’s suitable for anyone aside from ultraviolet. yet, somehow, nothing explains for how he continues to adjust here and there before lining her voice with the finishes of seamless transitions. one after the next, and somehow he’s managed to create frankensteins monster, a beacon of what creativity lies with his hard drive.

write enough songs, and you’ll soon imagine.

he thinks about scrapping it, throwing it out and starting into a blank canvas. but even that dies when he hears hayi’s voice blend smoothly with the contrasting hues of the drop. so, instead, he lets it still — head tossed back with nothing more than the echoes of a rough draft (something tells him: don’t throw it away.)

habits don’t die easily, and the lingering feeling subduing the file straight to trash leads him to work on the process instead. clicks here and there, he figures — if anything, it suits her more than it’ll suit any one else.

so, he keeps it. lets it be, and makes do with what he has.

[jschllatt]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭

Prompt: HIIIIIII i hope you are doing well !!!! i love your writing sm and would like to make a request !!!! i would love something in which schlatt n reader are both streamers/youtubers and have been friends for a while but they both like eachother and dont wanna ruin it ? and one of them finally makes a “first move” after like yearsss of being friends ?! sorry it’s not super specific but :( it can be any length of your choosing, whatever you feel up to writing !!! thank you and u are da best !!!!!

Warnings: Swears

Words: 1229

Not too sure if I like this one so feedback is much appreciated :)

You had a big problem. 

It was the type of problem that nagged at your brain all day, reminding you of your predicament even when you tried to ignore it. It dominated your focus, making it difficult to even think properly no matter what you did. What exactly was your problem? The answer was rather simple: you had fallen for your best friend, Schlatt. After years of friendship, you found it difficult to keep your feelings strictly platonic—Schlatt was simply too charismatic, too funny, too attractive. It seemed as though your feelings had hit you like a truck, and they only deepened as time progressed. You debated confronting your feelings head on by confessing your love to Schlatt, though you feared its outcome. He definitely didn’t like you back—not in that way. You two had been friends for years and you were going to ruin it just because you had caught feelings for him? No way. 

And so, you avoided your problem until it got out of hand. 

It was around two a.m. when you started streaming, your bright room a stark contrast to the darkness outside. You hadn’t streamed in a few days and decided that there was no better time to do so—you weren’t even close to being tired and you figured a majority of your streamer friends were still online, anyways. 

“Oh, Schlatt’s awake.” You observed quietly once you opened discord, noticing the green dot displayed next to his icon. You tried to hide your excitement as you messaged your best friend, a small smile on your face as you typed, hi schlatt <3. Seconds later, a ping signalled his reply, to which you laughed at as it read, fuck off. That was expected. You were just about to respond before your phone began to ring. Looking down, you saw Schlatt’s contact lighting up your screen. Feigning annoyance, you asked your chat rhetorically, “Oh God, what does he want?”

Answering the call, you tried to keep your expression neutral as you were met with Schlatt’s stoic expression. He remained silent for a few seconds and you interrupted the quietness by saying, “Hello?” He continued to ignore you, staring at the screen blankly, and you were just about to speak again before he yelled, “Go to sleep.” 

“Only if you come here and make me.” You replied somewhat flirtatiously, instantly regretting it—you feared what your chat would look like when you dared to glance at it. “Okay.” Schlatt chirped, then hung up. Chuckling softly, you rolled your eyes, muttering to your chat about how annoying he was. You couldn’t help but smile, however, once you realized that was Schlatt’s way of showing he cared—it wasn’t the most straightforward way of doing so, but you recognized his intentions nevertheless. You tried to conceal your adoration by changing the subject, talking to your chat about random things. A lot of your viewers had chastised you for being up so late, but you assured them that it was common for those who streamed for a living to rely on two hours of sleep. Time passed, and your chat began to flood with surprised exclamations, all regarding Schlatt—had he joined your stream? Your question was answered just moments later. 

On my way.

“Real funny, Schlatt.” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes at the dono displayed across your monitor.

It was quiet once again. Your chat had eventually become interested, for the most part, in your new content rather than Schlatt’s presence, which you were grateful for—you couldn’t bear to think about the man any longer without letting your mind wander. Did he really care about you or was he just trying to be funny? Even though the two of you had been best friends for years, he was quite difficult to read. It wasn’t often that he was serious with you. Sure, the two of you had your fair share of deep conversations, but Schlatt had always found a way to be sarcastic or humorous in most situations. 

Sighing, you tried to focus on your stream. Minutes passed, and your viewers could tell that you were off. They interpreted it as you being tired, to which you used as an excuse to end stream. “I’m sorry, guys, I am tired. I guess Schlatt was right.” You chuckled halfheartedly, hoping your viewers couldn’t sense your disappointment as you mentioned your best friend’s name. Luckily, they didn’t, and you were quick to end your stream with a dejected sigh. Snap out of it, he’s your best friend—nothing more. You found it hard to listen to your thoughts, and plopped down unceremoniously onto your bed, frowning. Why did you have to catch feelings for him? You shut your eyes and tried to push your thoughts away, focusing on the sound of gentle breeze that swept through your window. The night was rather warm and its gentleness offered you solace. However, after a few minutes of peace, your tranquility was interrupted by a knock at the door. You felt panic arise in your chest, startled by the sudden noise. It was nearly three in the morning, who in the world could have possibly been at your house?

Schlatt. 

As you looked through the peephole in your door, you observed your best friend standing on your front steps, his expression one of amusement.

Shit. He was really here? He wasn’t joking?

Ignoring the onslaught of anxious thoughts that flooded your mind, you swung the front door open. “What are you doing here?” You asked quietly, confused as you met his eyes. He smirked at you proudly before chuckling, “I told you to go to sleep, you said to come here and make you. Here I am.” You looked at your best friend incredulously, shocked that he took your words so seriously. “I-I was kidding, I didn’t think you’d-”

“Yeah, yeah, well it’s too late now.” Dumbfounded, you stared at Schlatt in response, gesturing for him to come in once you gained your composure. Schlatt towered over you once he entered your house, a smug look on his face as he observed your shocked self. “What? Surprised I can actually keep a promise?” You huffed in response, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow at him, “Yes.” Schlatt snickered and plopped down onto the couch, looking around your living room. “Nice place you got here.”

“You’ve been here before, idiot.” You countered, sitting down beside him with pursed lips. The rapid beat of your heart was not helping your case as you tried to remain calm, sitting so close to Schlatt that your knees were touching. The two of you sat in an awkward silence and you glanced over at your best friend curiously. Instantly, he met your gaze, staring at you with a ghost of a smile. Your eyes flickered down to look at his lips briefly, and you noticed Schlatt do the same, taking in your appearance with adoring eyes. Soon enough, you both had leaned in until your faces were inches away, practically sharing the same breath as you continued to stare at each other shamelessly. You were about to close the gap between the two of you before Schlatt mumbled smugly, “Go to sleep.” 

Leaning impossibly closer toward his lips, you grabbed a hold of his sweatshirt, tugging his body into yours as you countered, “Just shut up and kiss me, idiot.”

~

Tags: @ialexabsuniverse @esylwen @quack42069 @mayberii @dreamiewrites @moonamor @kalliblast @forbidden-sin-bin