#risque source

[problematic-fictive-edits]

"Hi!! Could do a Jak Harasi (Courtin' Cowboys) stimboard? Purple themed with weaponry (mostly guns)? Please and thanks!"

~🦇 Homulilly

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[lyria-kig]

This is choiya izayoi !!!

[primepaginequotidiani]

PRIMA PAGINA La Presse di Oggi giovedì, 30 gennaio 2025

[microsoftlicensesworld]

Les dangers de l'industrie laitière : Impact sur la santé humaine et environnementale

Les dangers de l'industrie laitière sont un sujet d'une importance croissante dans le monde contemporain. Les gens consomment des produits laitiers à un rythme sans cesse croissant, mais il est essentiel de comprendre les implications de cette industrie sur notre santé humaine et notre environnement. Les dangers de l'industrie laitière ne sont pas seulement limités à la santé individuelle, mais ils ont également un impact dévastateur sur l'écosystème dans son ensemble.

Dans notre société moderne, l'industrie laitière est omniprésente. Des produits laitiers tels que le lait, le fromage, le yaourt et le beurre sont consomm��s quotidiennement par des millions de personnes à travers le monde. Cependant, ce que beaucoup ne réalisent pas, ce sont les dangers cachés associés à cette industrie.

Tout d'abord, examinons les dangers de l'industrie laitière pour la santé humaine. De nombreuses études ont montré un lien entre la consommation de produits laitiers et divers problèmes de santé, notamment l'obésité, les maladies cardiaques, le diabète de type 2 et même certains cancers. Les produits laitiers contiennent souvent des niveaux élevés de graisses saturées et de cholestérol, ce qui peut contribuer à des problèmes de santé graves. De plus, les produits laitiers peuvent être une source de contamination bactérienne, ce qui peut entraîner des maladies d'origine alimentaire.

En ce qui concerne l'impact environnemental, les dangers de l'industrie laitière sont tout aussi préoccupants. La production laitière nécessite d'immenses quantités de ressources naturelles, notamment de l'eau et de la terre arable. De plus, l'élevage de vaches laitières est une source majeure de gaz à effet de serre, contribuant ainsi au changement climatique. L'industrie laitière est également associée à la déforestation, à la pollution de l'eau et à la perte de biodiversité.

Malgré ces dangers, l'industrie laitière continue de prospérer, alimentée par une demande mondiale croissante de produits laitiers. Cependant, il est impératif que nous prenions des mesures pour atténuer les effets néfastes de cette industrie sur notre santé et notre environnement. Cela pourrait impliquer une réduction de la consommation de produits laitiers, ainsi que des changements dans la manière dont ces produits sont produits et distribués.

En conclusion, les dangers de l'industrie laitière sont réels et méritent notre attention. Nous devons reconnaître les implications de notre consommation de produits laitiers et prendre des mesures pour réduire les effets néfastes sur notre santé et notre planète. En prenant des décisions éclairées et en soutenant des pratiques agricoles durables, nous pouvons contribuer à créer un avenir plus sain et plus durable pour tous.

https://enkling.com/read-blog/32918_les-risques-pour-la-sante-de-la-viande-et-des.html

https://freeline.mn.co/posts/56002100

https://smush-please.mn.co/posts/56002112

https://drujrake.mn.co/posts/56002185

https://tennispassion.mn.co/posts/56002224

https://comidarealkitchen.mn.co/posts/56002324

https://codeconnect.mn.co/posts/56002322

https://monvelli.mn.co/posts/56002350

https://mtekcorp.mn.co/posts/56002348

https://vote-for-miles.mn.co/posts/56002379

[greatsharklamia]

Summary: Step siblings since you were 16, it’s the first time you’ve seen Rafe since he left home for college. And now adults, your relationship is changing, helped along by Rafes four year old daughter.

Tags: Step-Siblings, Adulthood, Dad Rafe, Single Parent

Warnings: Step-sibling relationship, slight talk of being horny

Growing up in the cut, you’d known that you were poor. But you’d never realised how poor. Not until your mother started dating, and then later married, Ward Cameron.

It was like a whole other world opened up.

Sure, there were issues. You were 15 when they started dating, and 16 when they married. Old enough that you didn’t want new siblings. Not that they were siblings. They were comrades, trapped into this farce alongside you.

When your friends learned that Rafe Cameron was set to be your step-brother, they’d demanded a movie night. On show: step sibling love stories. From Mia Culpa, Clueless and snippets of Disney's Life with Derek, to the more risque movies.

Okay, so calling them movies was a stretch. It was straight up porn. Now at least you all knew what the guys meant when they joked ‘help me step-bro I’m stuck.’

The only issue with watching step siblings fall in love, was that it was sometimes hard to push it from your mind when Rafe was around. Thankfully you didn’t see each other a lot. Unlike with Sarah and Wheezie, with whom you’d become sort of friends with, Rafe had never tried to get along with you.

It was fine though, you didn’t need his shitty attitude in your life. He was off in his first year of college anyway, and soon would likely return to Kildare to move into his own mcmansion.

In the meantime, you worked hard. Having refused to move to the posh Figure 8 school had disappointed your mom, but she couldn’t argue that you were happier in the cut.

Time flew, and before you knew it you were returning home to celebrate your mom and Wards ten year anniversary. You’d kept in touch with Sarah and Wheezie, and though hadn’t been home in a while, still managed to call or text them most weeks. Communication with your step-brother had been non existent however. For all you knew he could be dead.

That was an exaggeration. You would have been invited to his funeral if that had happened. If only to console his sisters.

You were looking forward to returning to the outer banks though, some of your best friends from High School had remained on the island. And the biggest surprise of all was the amazing windfall for four (turned six). All Kie had told you was that they’d stumbled across some treasure, and that was that.

Honestly, their new status as Kooks was the least interesting thing about them.

JJ and Kie had married a couple of years back in a small wedding, with only friends in attendance. Since then they’d had one child, and according to sources (Sarah), JJ the stay at home dad was hoping Kies job allowed time for another baby soon.

Pope and Cleo were getting married next year, your invite was pinned to the fridge in your apartment. And a couple of months back, during a group facetime, Cleo had let slip that they were thinking about fostering. With their massive house and the retirement of Popes folks, it was something they were really excited about.

Sarah and John B, married since Highschool, were pregnant. And so excited. Having married so young and so abruptly you knew that a lot of people had expected them to have kids immediately, a rumor that the Camerons had worked to dispel. Your step sister was going to be an amazing mother, you just knew it.

But aside from other friends, it was Rafe that you were most interested in seeing. If only because of your curiosity.

After Uni he hadn’t moved back to Kildare, as expected. Instead, he had gotten a highpaying office job in New York, and there he met her.

From what the other woman in your family had told you, she was a snake through and through. But she had gifted Rafe with the most amazing thing. A little girl. Immediately after giving birth her mother had disappeared intio the night, never to be seen from again. She’d signed over her rights to her baby, and swindled a large chunk of cash from Rafe.

Now his baby girl was four, and very very cute. Or so everyone told you. And she had made the Rafe of your teen years disappear. According to everyone, while still a conceited jerk a lot of the time, he had mellowed, and no longer made it his mission to piss everyone off.

It was going to be so bizarre being home.

When you pulled into the long circular driveway, you could tell that everyone was there already. Being last didn’t phase you though, and you didn’t waste any time exiting the rental car, and hustling for the front door. You’d get your bags later, right now it was hot as hell outside and the aircon inside was calling your name.

You’d barley made in in the front door when you were being attacked by Wheezie. For a Uni student living on noodles and cheap vodka she was really strong, practically lifting you off your feet in a hug.

Over her shoulder you could see the rest of the family relaxing in the living room. Ward deigned to nod at you, which you returned with a polite smile. Your mother and Sarah however came hurrying over, joining the hug. And then a small body hit your hip. Looking down you saw the cutest little face ever.

Clearly she’d had never met a stranger, because she immediately started requesting ‘up.’ One look at Rafe showed he didn’t care, so you pulled back from the hug and bent to sweep her into your arms. Playfully making a show of nibbling on her hand which had come to rest on your cheek.

She squealed with laughter, and you couldn’t help the smile that took over your face as you brought her into the group hug.

Rafe had never really cared to think about you. Yeah you were hot in highschool, but you were a Pouge. It didn’t matter if you’re mom had married his dad, you were never going to be a kook.

But seeing you here, now? He couldn’t deny that you were stunning. And his daughter was clearly smitten with you.

She’d not let go of you since the group hug over an hour ago, resting in your lap and playing with the gold chain around your neck. While normally Rafe might have been jealous of anyone else holding his daughters attention for that long, he couldn’t bring himself to care now. Not when it was you.

He’d decided then and there, by the end of the trip you were going to be his.

It didn’t take long for you to realise that Rafe really was different.

While his relationship with Wheezie had always been sweet, he and Sarah had hated each other. That was gone now. Sarah sat to the left of him, playfully making fun of the drink he had in his hand. Something about it being for old men. But it was seeing how he reacted to John B that really showed the changes in him.

They seemed to be…friendly.

It wasn’t worth dwelling on, everyone was happy, and surprises aside it was shaping up to being a nice trip home.

Now if only you didn’t feel so lonely. It was hard seeing everyone from your teen years settled and happy, while all you had to show for your life was a failed engagement and crushing student debt.

Life wasn’t all bad though. You had an amazing group of friends, a flat you loved and a job that not only provided well, but was a great stepping stone to your dream job.

It was the heavy thoughts that led to you knocking back too many drinks. You’d tried not to at first, due to Rafes daughter, Amelia. But the sweet girl had toddled off an hour ago for a nap, and you were free to imbibe as you pleased.

That did backfire though, as halfway through your 6th drink Amelia was back from her nap and wanting a cuddle. You were happy to do so, but first you told the little girl you needed the bathroom, and passed her off to her Aunt Sarah.

It hadn’t been a complete lie. You did need to go, but you also needed to talk to Rafe first.

He was sat at the other end of the lounge, almost right across from you, but far enough that you couldn’t talk to him without going over there. So, gathering your courage you went up to your stepbrother, who you hadn’t spoken to in years and asked him to follow you.

Rafe hadn’t expected you to come to him first. In fact, he had expected to have to work hard for your attention. This might have been a small disappointment, but that disappeared quickly at getting a moment alone with you.

No one else noticed as you led him into the kitchen. “Hi Rafe,” you said, jumping up to sit on the bench so you were closer to his height.

“Hi Y/N,” he replied, stepping closer. “What can I do for you.” There was a flirtatious tone to his voice. It was ignored.

“Your daughter’s stunning, and the absolute sweetest,” You started, and he had to quickly hide his smug joy. She was.

“And I’m loving hanging out with her,” you continued,“ but I've drunk quite a lot.”

He knew that. He’d watched as you had been served every one of those drinks. It wasn’t a surprise that you were feeling the effects. It was clear up close too; the alcohol had created a rosy flush across your cheeks, and the top of your chest.

Rafe didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Are you okay with me hanging out with her while I’m drunk?” you finally blurted out.

He was stunned. He hadn't expected that, but it was actually a good question. One he wouldn’t have thought about.

“How about you come and sit next to me with her,” Rafe suggested, using the opportunity presented to him.

Your eyes met his, and you held the eye contact for a long moment before nodding.

“I’m popping to the bathroom but then I’ll be back,” you said, shimmying forward to ready the jump from the counter, but Rafe placed his hands on your waist and lifted you off first.

The smell of his cologne filled your nose, and combined with the move he’d just pulled, warmth pooled low in your belly.

It wasn’t the time to be horny though, you’d brought one of your faithful toys and could get the job done later. Right now your libido needed to piss off so you could enjoy family time.

“Thanks,” you said, looking up at him and hoping that you were exuding calm and unflustered. Confident you hadn’t made a dick out of yourself, you excused yourself.

By the time you got back to the living room Rafe had settled back into the couch, and had his daughter held in his lap.

It was clear that he had told her you would be coming to join them, because the moment he caught sight of you, he pointed at you and the little girl was off like a rocket. Once again she found your hip with a force that was surprising.

Your bathroom break had shown that you were about as drunk as you thought you were, but being back in the air conditioned room was doing wonders to sober you up. For that reason, you had no qualms picking the girl up and settling her onto your hip for the small journey across the room.

Ignoring the confused looks from almost everyone else in the room, you settled easily onto the couch next to Rafe. You weren't expecting him to interact with you, but Rafe was quick to wave over a server and ask you what you wanted to drink. Child in lap, it seemed that orange juice was the safest bet, and over the course of the next couple of hours Rafe proved to be easy, attentive company and a doting father.

After dinner you were ready to brave the outside world. Chances to swim were few and far between where you lived, and the feeling of weightlessness that came from swimming in the ocean was your greatest want right now.

You let yourself out of the house. A small part of you thought that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. You were still a little tipsy from your earlier drinks. But you pushed it away, throwing your towel over your shoulder and strolling down the path to the beach.

Behind you, there was a noise and then a voice called out to you. A shirtless Rafe, Amelia slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, fell into step beside you.

“Hi,” you squeaked out, waving like an idiot. Thankfully, and not known to you, Rafe thought you were adorable.

“Going to the beach too?” he asked.

“Yes!” you were so excited, “I’m so excited.” You punctuated this with two small claps, which Amelia was quick to follow to both yours and Rafes amusement.

“You are just the cutest thing,” you said, running a hand over the girls head. She giggled and leaned toward you with arms outstretched, clearly wanting to be carried by you.

You took a moment to look at Rafe for permission, but he was already handing his daughter over. She was quick to steal all of your attention with her rambling, happy chatter. Not that Rafe could be mad.

No, now he could pay attention to you, and if caught, well his daughter made a great scapegoat. Your towel was pulled off your shoulder after a moment, and when you turned Rafe just waved you away. No arguments from you.

The walk to the beach was passed in the same way the day had passed. You focused on Amelia, and Rafe focused on the two of you. Even going so far as to ask if you wanted him to rub sun cream into your back when you got to the beach.

His large hands massaging the cool cream into your warm back felt glorious. And Rafe was in agreement, stretching the moment out as long as he could. He’d not expected you to slide behind him and return the favour, jumping slightly, but he was not turning down the offer, even sitting on the towel he’d laid out, when you tugged lightly on his arm.

You ran your hands down the strong muscles of Rafes back, pulling faces at Amelia all the while. She was cute as a button as she pouted, mad at having to wait a couple of minutes before getting in the water. And her dad was almost as cute.

You finished rubbing the sunblock into his back and neck, but decided a little bit was needed on the tops of his ears. For some reason, this small action stole the breath from Rafe.

Standing from your seated position, the only way you could possibly get sunblock on Rafes back and ears without a step stool, you stole Amelia from the ground and jogged down the beach toward the waves.

It wasn’t until your laughter reached his ears that Rafe realized he should be following you, but it didn’t take long to catch up. His long stride ate up the distance in seconds, and when you hit the water he was beside you, reaching a hand out to steady you when a wave knocked low in your calves.

“Since Amelias so small for her age, I don’t normally let her go at the beach. She can swim in the pool with her floaties, but here I carry her the whole time.” Rafe explained lowly in your ear. You could understand. Without already knowing her age, you probably would have pegged her as a little younger.

“That works for us Step-bro,” you said. Your words were a deliberate attempt to cut some space between you and Rafe. His attention and care made you feel a bit like you were stepping into their little family, rather than hanging out with your estranged step sibling and his daughter.

It had the opposite effect on Rafe though, and if he wasn't already over waist deep in the water, it would have been obvious.

From that day forward, everywhere you went, Amelia and Rafe were close behind.

[1000sunnygo]

One Piece Academy chapter 41: The Dark Bingo Tournament, part 1 (Quick translation)

The lore deepens..

source | previous chapter | part 2 | index

Cover page side note : Sanji-kun's morning starts with black coffee.

Editor's note: what was discussed while playing trump at the Doflamingo countermeasure headquarters?

-

Everyone: An undercover investigation?

Cora: Yeah...

Cora: Doffy is supposed to attend a certain meeting tonight. Law and I will have an investigation trip.

Robin: 'A certain'...?

Luffy: ..Party with Mingo? I'm coming as well!!

Nami: They just said it's an investigation!

Law: Outside, it's a Bingo party with the Grand City enterprises.

But in reality... It's a meet-and-greet ceremony with the Dark World's residents.

Chopper: The Dark world... Meaning the bad adults? Er, Eleven-Back...

Robin: Eight-Stop (T/N: these are Daifugou card game terms)

Cora: It's all my intuitive prediction, though.

Doffy got himself his first new suit in a long time. There's something to this...

If they meet, it's possible that he'd sign a contract to become part of the gangs then and there. We have to stop this somehow.

Zoro: What do you mean 'somehow'? You haven't decided what to do yet?

Sanji: You want to stop them without being busted. It ain't a simple task at all.

Vivi: Definitely a high risque plan for high schoolers.... Triple Queen.

Cora: I'm one of the students who is given authority by the country and the school to 'investigate and use force'.

Coby: Something like Student council, or Public morals corps?

Cora: Right... Coby, you were part of the Public morals corps, aren't you.

Nami: Hey, Cora-chan... Was Doflamingo always like this? You've lived with him, haven't you?

Cora:....

Our family, the Donquixote Family "used to be" one of the great families of the world. We brothers were raised by kind hearted mother and father.

Vivi: The Donquixote Family! I've heart bits about it from Papa.

Cora: 'Cause Vivi-chan's Nefertari family is also one of those great families!

Usopp: That sounds like a nice family!

Brook: What do you mean by "used to be?"

Cora: A fall from a prestigious family to rock bottom... That's what I mean.

Father, unfamiliar with business, tried his hand at several private charity projects. Unfortunately, every single one ended in huge failure. Our family lost all its possessions, and we lost our social standing.

Those were terrible days, filled with hunger. There were people who's mock and laugh at us for getting the boot, kicked out of the town.

All of it was probably unbearable for my brother. He developed a deep seated hate towards the townsfolk and father.

Then, Doffy disappeared from the sight of me and family. As years passed on...

Cora: I discovered him in the streets as one of the thugs.

Sanji: I guess, he was royally messed up.

Vivi: So he has a past like this behind that perpetual jolly demeanor...

Chopper: Vivi...

Luffy: Corao, I'm bringing leftover food with me.

Cora: Bring with you? You're going somewhere?

Luffy: Why, at Mingo's party!

(Continues in reblogs) ⬇️

[cerastes]

With the exception of Arknights what are your thoughts on gacha games?

I don't feel like I need to exclude Arknights from the statement, I can criticize things even if I like them.

In general, I don't like that their widely accepted and even defended business model is "Capitalize on FOMO, exploit gambling addictions, create dependent users". I also think that the use of the "game as a service" model, and one that needs to keep pumping content forever and can't risk to alienate the player, severely limits what can be done with the medium in terms of creativity, because you can't kill off playable characters nilly willy (I actually think Epic Seven was cooking with this, Epic Seven will kill off playable characters and remove them from the plot if it feels like it, or at least used to back when I played, don't know nowadays), relationships and dynamics with characters tend to be limited because otherwise your audience can feel like you are cucking them, and I wish I was kidding but just look at the absolute dumpster fire of a drama going on as we speak (22nd of January, 2024) in Girls' Frontline 2 over in China over one of the characters having interactions with a male NPC, and you can't ever bring a true sense of finality to any given arc because everything ends up having to be foreshadowing, set-up, build-up and so on and on and on. In many cases, you also have a mold cast of Must Have tropes in your playable cast: The Maid, The Idol, The One That Worships The Ground You Walk On, The Underage And Underclothed One, The Underage (But We Treat This One As A Precious Child!) One, Foxgirl, The Cold And Highly Analytical One (But Actually, Loves You), Chuuni, etc, so it feels like in every game I kinda already know at least a third of the cast minimum already and I'm kind of primed to not really want to know them, even though there's subversions I end up liking sometimes (Fenny from Snowbreak is an example of an Idol-type I ended up loving despite not liking Idol-types).

On the other hand, even with these negatives in mind, having a game that periodically updates and adds content, and that you can discreetly play pretty much everywhere on the go due to smartphones being their main 'console', games that foster community and something to talk about with your friends that also play and that will always have something new every couple of weeks, as well as inspire fanart, fanworks, analysis, and commentary, and that tend to be more risque and interesting with their designs is honestly good to have. I personally enjoy the community aspect of gacha games, I consider it one of the two most important aspects for me, because I know I can come here, for example, and see people talking about the story, the characters, the music, the gameplay, and more, every day, and the other important thing to me is how discreet they are, since I can just play a few maps or stages in my phone real fast midst a social situation at work, and then hop back in with a renewed social battery or when a topic I like comes up.

I fully get when people showcase their disdain for gacha, yeah, but if we really want to be nitpicky, the majority of the game industry is kind of a cesspool of toxicity, which is not to say "stop bashing gacha" and instead say "bash the whole thing if you're going to be bashing it anyway" (and we should! Game devs and other personnel in the industry have been crying for better conditions for years now!). Either way, if someone decides to sit at the gambling den, it becomes their responsibility. I want there to be more safeguards for people with actual addictions and to protect them, but with this in mind, if anyone still decides to sit at the den, it's assumed they are going to take responsibility for their actions and financial decisions.

So all in all, yeah, predatory games that suffer in quality due to their own trappings, but also good sources of community, inspiration, and effective at being discreet games you can play anywhere and that get periodic updates (this isn't necessarily exclusive to gacha but it is an aspect of them that bears mentioning, which I point out since no doubt people will want to point out there's good non-gacha smartphone game options out there)

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 16: The Right Dellamorte

“You can do with your body what you please, I just…think you deserve better.” “Sweet of you, but I haven’t had time for intimacy in months. If I find myself hot and bothered, I can promise you Damas won’t be my first stop.” She said as he dipped her towards the floor, one hand supporting her back while the other remained at her waist. “Any other romantic advice?” Lucanis smirked. “Only to kiss the right Dellamorte next time.” Rook’s pulse quickened as she clung to his greatcoat. Slowly, Lucanis eased her up, his expression suggesting his own forwardness equally surprised him. There was a raggedness to his breathing, and he reached out tentatively to comb a hand through her hair. When she remained still, he let the strands slip through his fingertips until he was cradling the back of her neck. A soft rattling of bones behind them broke the moment, and Rook turned to find Manfred offering her a thick tome on his serving platter. She straightened, smoothing the front of her gown with a thin-lipped smile. “Excellent work, Manfred.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Emmrich requests Lucanis and Rook's assistance infiltrating a former colleague's soiree, Rook grants Lucanis a rare moment of vulnerability, and Spite grapples with existentialism and…zippers.

Word count: 4.5k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! This chapter contains content from Emmrich's veilguard quest, A Sacrifice of Souls. Warnings for: mention of shitty dads, dead parents, temporary character demise, panting/heavy breathing/risque touching. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

The days following the rescue of the Dalish passed without incident, but Neve managed to keep Rook occupied. After an agonizing and unnecessary Threads meeting (that Damas called just to flirt with Rook), she and Neve returned to the Lighthouse after a quick dinner at the docks.

“Someone’s on Damas’ good side,” Neve teased. “I suppose your little tryst last year did us some good.”

Just as Rook began a cutting remark, they ascended the stairs to find a small group of friends waiting for them. Talking amongst themselves, their companions sat around the table, joined by one of the Mourn Watchers, Myrna. Coffee in hand, Lucanis leaned against Emmrich’s chair. His agitated expression suggested he’d overheard Neve’s mention of Damas.

“We have her, Rook!” Emmrich shot to his feet, excitedly clenching his fists. “We know exactly what she’s planning!”

Manfred echoed the necromancer with a delighted hiss, and Rook glanced at the others expectantly for clarification. 

“Is this about your old friend? Johanna?” Neve asked as she took a seat beside Harding on the couch, “Did you find out anything about that artifact she’s been wielding, then?”

“She carries a glowing lantern.”

“Shit!”

Rook jumped at the sound of Vorgoth’s voice as the phantom-like figure appeared behind her, and Lucanis tensed, instinctively reaching for the sword at his hip. The two had shared some discomfort around Emmrich’s collection of spirits and Fade-touched acquaintances, as spirit magic wasn’t common amongst Crows. Lucanis was guilty of being more vocal about his discomfort, while Rook tried desperately to conceal hers behind a mask of polite deference.

“The lanterns were fashioned by unscrupulous necromancers of the past. They steal and concentrate life.” Myrna explained as Vorgoth took his place at her side. “Hezenkoss intends to hold a soiree at Blackthorne Manor, likely to lure such a pool for her to draw from.”

“Johanna could leech life from hundreds at a time. An endless source of power!” Emmrich lamented. “We must do something. Everyone here has already agreed to assist me in infiltrating Johanna’s lair while she’s distracted. Once we’ve destroyed her lantern, all will be well.”

“What can I do?” Rook asked.

“I could use you and Lucanis’ unique set of skills to glean whatever information you can from the other attendees.” He said and laid a hand on Manfred’s shoulder. “I’m afraid my companion is not quite ready to attend a soiree all on his own.”

“He wants us to attend the party.” Lucanis said, brushing past her on his way to the courtyard. He leaned over, his breath ghosting over Rook’s ear, “Wear something nice.”

A chill ran up her spine, the air only becoming colder as Vorgath and Myrna strode past, taking their leave.

“Happy hunting.” 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“No, Manfred, you pinch and pull…ow!”

Rook held the silk dress together where the skeleton had been trying to zip it up. He sulked, clicking the tips of his boned fingers together in exasperation. 

“You’re right, your hands are too smooth. It’s okay, we can try again, you just-”

“Having trouble?” Lucanis asked, peering through the crack in the doorway. He pushed his way inside, dressed in a black-on-black suit, a dark green greatcoat pulled over his shoulders. Perched atop a neatly knotted grey cravat, his usual Crow-embellished buttons gleamed subtly in the light as they held the chain across his collar in place.

Typical that a Dellamorte would have her feeling underdressed in an evening gown.

“Manfred is struggling with the zipper…through no fault of his own!” She reassured the skeleton, “I think skin is key for traction.”

“CURIOSITY DRESSED ROOK NICELY.” Spite interjected, causing Lucanis’ face to flush. He cleared his throat, giving Manfred an appreciative nod. 

“I can take things from here.” He offered as he regained control. Manfred’s teeth chattered excitedly as stooped and eagerly gathered several discarded gowns from the floor, piling them in his arms until they towered over his skull. He fled from the room, disappearing down the hall.

“Little thief.” Rook muttered as Lucanis stepped behind her, sweeping her hair over her shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll find him playing dress-up later.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be moonlighting as a tailor anytime soon.”

Lucanis slipped one hand to the base of her spine, pulling the dress’ fabric taut and zipping it slowly. One thumb slid up the stretch of her spine, protecting her skin from becoming pinched in the metal again. Goosebumps broke out in the wake of his touch, and Rook stepped out of his reach as soon as he was finished.

“Thank you.” Rook gathered her hair in her hands, letting it cascade down her back again.

“Don’t mention it.”

Lucanis wandered the room, inspecting her keepsakes and trinkets, before picking up her knives on the dresser and passing them to her. She affixed one to the strap on her thigh and tucked the other inside her boot. She wasn’t risking getting caught in battle wearing heels ever again, and the length of the dress concealed them well.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in formalwear.” Lucanis said, offering her his arm.

“Likewise.” She hooked her elbow in Lucanis’, matching her steps to his as he led her down the staircase. “I think I’m looking forward to a rare occasion of anonymity.”

Lucanis hummed in agreement, taking a sharp turn towards the eluvian room as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“So you and Neve met with the Threads again today?”

“What, feeling left out?” Rook sneered. “I thought you didn’t want to come if there wasn’t killing?”

“Better to be consistent. Let them know I’m still here.” 

“I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“You don’t. But take me next time, anyway.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Perhaps I’ll find an opportunity to dirty my blade.” 

“Something tells me you’d like to use it on Damas.”

He shrugged. “Spite doesn’t like the way he looks at you.” 

Rook stopped before the eluvian, placing her hands on her hips. “Is that true, Spite?”

“LUCANIS-”

He coughed forcefully, suppressing the demon’s response.

“Fine. I don’t like it either.” Lucanis growled, ushering her into the eluvian. 

Blackthorne Manor loomed ominously before them on the horizon as they surfaced outside the eluvian at the edge of the woods. Chatter and music emanated from within, reaching their ears even from a distance. The evening air nipped at Rook’s skin, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself for warmth, carefully stepping over the dirt-covered cobblestone path. Each uneven stone was a challenge to not muddy her gown.

“How exactly does Damas look at me?” She asked as Lucanis led her inside.

He tensed, a puff of hot air leaving his nostrils in the chill.

“Like he’s undressing you with his eyes.” 

“Men are vile. That’s just how it is. You and Spite can’t possibly pluck the eyes from every ill-intentioned gentleman who stares at me too long.”

“We could try.”

As they entered the manor, they found the grand hall alive with lively conversation and posturing, voices reverberating off the walls. The ballroom was bathed in green light, as so many Mourn Watcher spaces and dwellings were. The marbled floors reminded her of the Dellamorte Operahouse as she stepped over their gold embellishments. From her periphery, Rook could see their companions observing from a nearby balcony.

"I've never been to a party with so many mages without being hired to kill one of them." Lucanis murmured.

"Try to place nice, for now." Rook said, catching on to a nearby conversation between two mages and tugging Lucanis aside toward a pillar to eavesdrop. “Emmrich wants us to determine where Johanna’s workshop is, first.”

“A shrine in the manor? You’re kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. As an expert, I could read the spectral tome that reveals it, if our host ever let us into the library.” The other man griped. There was a soft hiss behind them and Rook discovered Manfred waiting with an empty serving platter behind her.

“Manfred, I need a spectral tome from the library.” She asked in a hushed tone, “Could you send the others to look for it?”

The skeleton nodded and scurried away into the masses.

“And now we wait.” Rook said, eyeing the bar and cursing her vow of sobriety. Feeling Lucanis’ eyes on her, she turned to him, her voice laced with irritation. “What?”

Lucanis, undeterred, offered his hand with a gentle smile. “Care for a dance?”

“I suppose neither of our cousins are here to object.”

Rook accepted the dance, allowing him to escort her to the center of the room. To her surprise, he placed his free hand on her hip, drawing her into a slow, Antivan waltz.

“I apologize if I was critical earlier. It was not my intention…” Lucanis said, guiding her through each step with admirable grace. “I just…struggle to understand your history.”

“I suppose I didn’t realize you took such an issue with my sexual track record,” Rook mused.

Lucanis swallowed. “That’s your business.”

“You seem quite eager to make it your business,” she said, doing her best to keep synced with his movements.

“Wouldn’t you enjoy it more if it was…someone you cared for? Not some slimy Thread lying about his identity?”

“To answer that question, I’d have to sleep with someone I cared about first.” Rook replied as he gave her a brief twirl, pulling her tightly against him. “Why don’t you list off some of your ex-partners? I wouldn’t mind scrutinizing you for every regrettable evening of intimacy you’ve had.”

“There aren’t many to speak of,” Lucanis mumbled. “You can do with your body what you please, I just…think you deserve better.”

“Sweet of you, but I haven’t had time for intimacy in months. If I find myself hot and bothered, I can promise you Damas won’t be my first stop.” She said as he dipped her towards the floor, one hand supporting her back while the other remained at her waist. “Any other romantic advice?”

Lucanis smirked. “Only to kiss the right Dellamorte next time.”

Rook’s pulse quickened as she clung to his greatcoat. Slowly, Lucanis eased her up, his expression suggesting his own forwardness equally surprised him. There was a raggedness to his breathing, and he reached out tentatively to comb a hand through her hair. When she remained still, he let the strands slip through his fingertips until he was cradling the back of her neck.

A soft rattling of bones behind them broke the moment, and Rook turned to find Manfred offering her a thick tome on his serving platter. She straightened, smoothing the front of her gown with a thin-lipped smile.

“Excellent work, Manfred.”

She held the volume, sliding a thumb along its dusty spine before turning to Lucanis, who was struggling to hide his disappointment. 

“Would you like to take the lead on this, or should I?”

“By all means.” He said and gestured in front of them. Rook slipped her arm back in his, approaching the two mages from before, still engrossed in conversation.

“Excuse me, my husband and I are dear friends of the host. We’re looking for an expert to decipher this spectral tome, and someone pointed you out from across the room!” She flashed a dazzling smile that made up for her lack of natural charm. Beauty could mask even the worst charisma, Teia had always said.

The Mortalitasi Mage grinned smugly, eyes fixed upon the tome with intense desire, and extended both hands expectantly. “I’d be happy to look it over for you.” 

The spectral tome growled as Rook handed it over, and she fought to remain unbothered. If they were to appear as if they belonged here, they couldn’t risk reacting to phenomena common amongst those present.

“Shh, there now.” The mage reprimanded the tome like one would a child, “I just want to know one thing…”

He thumbed through the pages before slapping the book with one hand. 

“Ah!” He pointed a passage out to his companion, “There is an ancestral shrine! In the northwest wing!”

“Fascinating…” Rook glanced up at the balcony, where an eavesdropping Bellara gave a thumbs up before disappearing from sight.

Lucanis leaned forward, cutting into the conversation. “Any other useful information?” 

The mage hugged the tome closer. “I may need time to research it. I could return it then, if you’d like?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Lucanis said pleasantly, offering a brief bow before pulling Rook aside. “Excuse us. Enjoy your evening.”

“Johanna probably has a key...” Rook whispered as Lucanis drew her into another dance.

“Any sign of her?” He asked, standing straighter to peer over the crowd. 

“Nothing yet...” She ducked under his arm as he circled her. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to dance. Or dance well, for that matter.” 

“Killing is a dance too, no?” He asked. “Caterina insisted my parents put me in ballroom lessons the moment I could walk. It was the one part of Crow training my mother consented to at such a young age. She tried to shield me from the rest for as long as she could.”

“But your mother was a skilled assassin, was she not?”

“Doesn’t mean she agreed with the Crows’ methods. She married into the Dellamortes, and Caterina adored her, but she didn’t put on any airs, and wasn’t concerned with being agreeable to appease my grandmother.”

“It sounds like she was a lovely woman, for all I’ve heard of her.”

“Caterina said I take after her,” Lucanis said wistfully. “I take some comfort in that.”

“Do you remember much of your parents?”

“I was so young when they passed, and many of my memories are clouded from my time in the Ossuary. I distanced myself from so much to survive...” Lucanis’ words trailed off. “What about you?”

“I try to remember good things about my mother. That’s how I’d like to keep her memory. As for my father…” Rook hesitated, and Lucanis nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I loved my father. But a part of him died with my mother. The part that was gentle, understanding - you saw a glimpse of it the day Caterina brought you over to retrieve her ring. The man I knew withered away, increasingly overcome by his own paranoia, likely after making an enemy of the Antaam.”

“Is that when he left the Crows?” 

Rook nodded. No longer in the mood to dance, she slowed her steps, dropping Lucanis’ hand.

“He trained me to fight, to survive, but never wanted me to become an assassin. All of us Crows had trying childhoods but… my father’s methods were cruel and unusual. Viago and my aunt tried to intervene, but my father only drove them away, isolating us, refusing assistance no matter how poor or hungry we got, saying their money was tainted by the king’s hand. After a lifetime of taunting from other children for being the King’s bastard, that hurt Viago more than anything. In the absence of his own father, he looked up to mine, only to face rejection from him as well.”

Lucanis’ eyes widened. “I had no idea…”

“I grieved my father when he died, and he did not deserve the brutal execution the Antaam gave him. But in so many ways, moving in with Viago was liberation. He took care of me. And later, Varric taught me to take care of myself. Taught me to endure, to laugh, to strive for a better world. Qualities that made me a poor Crow made me a strong leader. I was born Fiammetta de Riva, and that will never change, but Rook is the name I made for myself. In spite of my father. I don’t want his legacy. And I do not want to remember those years alone with him.”

As he listened, a look of compassion, not pity, softened Lucanis’ features. Rook fell silent, a blush creeping up her neck as she questioned her impulsive honesty.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story-”

“I appreciate you telling it. That legacy shadowed you for a lifetime. Letting it go in pursuit of who you truly are?” Lucanis reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It suits you.”

Rook’s lips parted slightly, and her chest ached as she met his gaze. Everyone on her team accepted her wholeheartedly, but Lucanis knew who she was before, and still was willing to let that version go and appreciate who she was now... 

While struggling to find the right words, Rook spotted Johanna out of the corner of her eye, storming through the ballroom.

“Kiss me.” She said, grabbing him by the collar of his shit.

His brow furrowed. “What-”

Without hesitation, she pulled him in and pressed her mouth to his ardently, backing him into a pillar. He tasted like dark, bitter coffee as she deepened the kiss, tangling her hands in his hair. Even using the moment as an opportunity, something passed between them she knew she couldn’t take back. This wasn’t about seeing what made the Demon of Vyrantium tick, or trying to soothe her ache for physical contact with an old crush. This was driven by a longing to let Lucanis Dellamorte see parts of her she’d never dared to show anyone else…

As Johanna passed them, Rook dismissed her thoughts and focused on the task at hand. She positioned herself to intercept Johanna, their shoulders colliding and sending Johanna reeling backward. Frantically, she broke the kiss, turning around and feigning panic.

“I am so, so sorry!” she cried, adjusting Johanna’s attire and subtly checking for any outlines of keys.

“You should carry yourself with more decorum at a gathering such as this!” Johanna snarled, shoving her off. Rook’s eyes flitted to Lucanis, who discreetly slipped a hand into Johanna’s coat and retrieved a keyring, inconspicuously dropping it into his pocket.

“My apologies. My wife has had a bit too much to drink tonight.” Lucanis stepped forward from behind Johanna, wrapping his arm around Rook’s shoulders and guiding her aside. “Excuse us, madame.”

As an oblivious Johanna stalked off, Lucanis steered Rook to a nearby wall, concealing them in shadow.

“You got lucky,” she said with a grin, waving Manfred over.

“You never fail to impress, Rook.” He said, retrieving the keyring from his pocket and dangling it between them.

As Manfred hobbled through the crowd with his serving tray, Rook took an empty tankard from a nearby table, plopping the keys inside.

“Get these to the others.” She directed, setting the tankard down on the platter. The skeleton hissed in understanding and ambled towards a nearby corridor, searching for Emmrich. Rook beckoned Lucanis to follow her in the opposite direction to the balcony stairwell.

“So…did I kiss the right Dellamorte this time?” She asked under lowered lashes, hoisting herself up on the railing.

Something burned in his eyes. Yearning. His, not Spite’s. Encouraged, she pressed him further, tugging at his coat and drawing him in by wrapping one leg behind his calves. The movement of her gown exposed the gleaming weapon at her thigh, and Lucanis paled at the sight, bracing one palm on the wall above her head.

“Rook…” He nuzzled his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Their rhythmic panting was audible over the music and chatter as he grasped her waist with both hands, thumbs digging in just below her ribs. 

“Are you going to answer my question?” She leaned forward and nipped at his earlobe. “Or were you in over your head earlier with that line?”

“I don’t decide what is right for you, Rook…” he rasped, “No matter how much I…” 

She pulled back, staring in disbelief. 

“You think there’s a choice involved.” She breathed. “Between you and Illario? Lucanis…if I didn’t-I wouldn’t toy with your-”

Faint tremors shook the walls, the ground rumbling beneath their feet as the crystals in the chandeliers overhead clinked together. A cloud of dust and debris billowed as a colossal skeletal figure crashed through the marble ballroom floor, prompting widespread panic. Its eyes glowed a bejeweled green, and Johanna sat perched atop its head, her voice booming throughout the room. 

“How good to see you, friends! Scoffing colleagues, interfering Templars, inept rivals - you all have a place in my heart! And tonight you will fuel my inception at the cost of your miserable lives!” 

Harding appeared from around the corner, followed closely by their other companions, and pushed Rook and Lucanis up the stairs just as the room was enveloped in emerald light, the essence of every living creature below being drained from them.

“Go, go!”

“What did you do?” Rook hissed at Emmrich as they watch the ritual below unfold.

“Got a little too cocky.” Davrin grumbled.  

“You can’t free the spirits in that lantern?” Neve asked Emmrich, shielding her eyes from the light.

“It might kill me and not even work!” He protested, “No living thing can approach it, and-”

Manfred suddenly raised his head, rising from his crouch and rushing towards the ledge. 

“I go!”

“No!” Emmrich cried, “Come back!” 

They watched in horror as the skeleton shed its backpack, leaping off the balcony and climbing the ribcage of Johanna’s monstrosity. Manfred tore at the lantern in the giant skeleton’s chest until he dislodged it, flying free with it grasped in his bony hands. The ritual came to a stop, the hostages below freed from Johanna’s control as the spirit of curiosity landed on its back, holding up the lantern triumphantly as it swung in the air. 

“Ugh! You miserable little-” Johanna swore and directed her skeletal thrall forward. With booming steps, it stomped closer to Manfred, and with a forceful thrust, he hurled the enchanted lantern towards Emmrich. The larger skeleton brought its foot down with a deafening boom, crushing their companion underneath.

“Manfred!” Emmrich whimpered as the lantern rocked on its side against the marble floor. Rook rushed forward to retrieve it, thrusting it into the necromancer’s hands.

“Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

With a mournful gaze, Emmrich raised it overhead, focusing on Johanna.

“By the spirits bound here…”

“Spite, leave it.” Lucanis said under his breath, straining to keep the demon at bay. 

“What’s wrong?” Rook asked, kneeling beside him and resting a hand on his back as Emmrich continued the ritual. Lucanis’ eyes flashed with Spite’s presence. 

“I want-”

“No.” Lucanis commanded Spite through gritted teeth as a pair of purple wings unfurled at his back. Rook’s grip on his shoulder tightened, a silent plea to the demon not to interfere, and Lucanis slouched back against the railing, brow slick with sweat.

Before them, Johanna and her skeleton toppled to the ground as she cried out, first in rage, then in a strangled, cut off shriek of terror as her body landed on the marble with a heavy thud. As the dust settled and the soiree attendees regained their footing, Emmrich raced down the stairwell and across the ballroom to Manfred’s side, stifling a sob. Everyone followed solemnly, Rook lacing her fingers through Lucanis’ as she sensed Spite slipping through again.

“Bring…CURIOSITY BACK!”

She squeezed tightly, willing the demon to calm itself. “Spite…please. Not now.”

“It’s alright. Spirits are often confused by death, especially amongst their own.” Emmrich said, cradling Manfred’s limp form in his hands as he looked up at them. “His body could only take so much. I underestimated him…”

“I didn’t realize Spite was so attached to Manfred…” Bellara said sorrowfully. “Can you bring him back?”

“Spite may be grappling with some of his own fears at the moment. Best to get he and Lucanis home.” Emmrich suggested. “As for Manfred…I will ask.”

He wiped a stray tear and gathered his fallen companion, rising to his feet. “I must go to the Necropolis. I can…I will…fix this.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook accompanied Bellara and Emmrich to the Necropolis while the others returned to the Lighthouse. It turned out Manfred could be brought back, but only if Emmrich was willing to give up Lichdom — eternal life, to achieve the best interests of spirits and the dead.

Almost certain the necromancer would be hesitant to give up a lifelong dream well within his reach, Rook was surprised to find how willing Emmrich was to sacrifice everything for his companion. It would take a few days to gather the necessary elements to perform the revival rites, but the three returned home with hope, rather than despair. 

As the others departed for their chambers, Rook returned to her own, finding her bed already occupied. On his back, Lucanis dozed with one hand on his chest, the other extended overhead, hanging over the edge.

“ROOK?”

Spite sat up, assessing her through Lucanis’ eyes over the back of the chaise.

“Whose idea was this?” Rook asked, taking off her cloak and hanging it up in the wardrobe.

“LUCANIS SAID TO STAY IN THE KITCHEN. BUT I WAIT UNTIL HE SLEEP. BRING HIM HERE. TO WAIT FOR ROOK.”

“Better than leaving through the eluvian.” She sighed, “What had you so shaken back at the manor, Spite?”

The demon remained silent, and she knew well enough to leave the matter alone.

“Do you know how zippers work, Spite?” She asked, changing the subject.

He rose, footsteps echoing through her chambers as she offered her back to him. Lucanis’ fingertips were cold as they skimmed against her bare shoulders, Spite tracing mesmerized circles on her skin. With a curious tug, he studied the zipper of her dress, bringing it down just a few notches before tilting his head to the side and sliding it down the rest of the way. With a hand behind her, holding the gown together, Rook shooed him aside. The demon’s gaze lingered, but it carried for more fascination than desire.

“What do you like about me so much, Spite?” Rook asked suddenly, realizing the potential danger in her question only after she had asked it. The spirit blinked, as if the answer should be obvious.

“ROOK DOES NOT FEAR SPITE. MAKES LUCANIS FEEL…”

He paced, gazing at the arched windows, struggling to articulate Lucanis’ unspoken feelings with such a limited mortal vocabulary. Taking advantage of his lapse in attention, Rook slipped off her dress and hurriedly changed into a white silk chemise.

“DETERMINED!” Spite finished eagerly. “LUCANIS DETERMINED TO PROTECT. TO UNDERSTAND. TO IMPRESS.”

In a flash of violet, his wings unfolded behind him, and Spite took to the air, landing with a quiet thud before her again.

“TO BE NEAR. TO TOUCH.” He extended a hand, Lucanis’ thumb trailing down her cheek. “TO BE GENTLE…”

With a sudden jerk, Spite’s presence faded from his eyes, and Lucanis’ face slackened. Worry lined his face as he recoiled in confusion.

“Rook? What happened?”

“Spite came to visit. We talked. That’s all.” She reassured him, “He’s surprisingly a perfect gentleman.”

“Mierda.” Lucanis dragged a hand down his face. “My apologies. I can’t believe he’d intrude on you like this.”

“I don’t mind. I would have been up for hours trying to get that dress off if he hadn’t helped me out.”

Lucanis glanced down at the thin chemise just barely covering her breasts, and worked his jaw, averting his gaze.

“You should rest. It’s been a long day.”

“What about you?”

“I need coffee.” He said, pulling open her door.

“In the middle of the night?”

“Especially in the middle of the night.” He replied with a tired smile, stepping into the hall, “Sleep well, Rook.”

[french-ao3]

Lore.FM, ou pourquoi créer un "Audible pour Archive of Our Own" n'est pas une bonne idée

Ce blog n'a pas l'habitude de couvrir des sujets d'actualité, mais qui sait, peut-être le devrait-il. Du fait du caractère récent des évènements dont je vais parler ici, je ne peux pas espérer atteindre le niveau de détachement et d'objectivité que je tente d'avoir dans mes autres posts, donc je vous invite à vous renseigner de votre propre côté. Je ferai de mon mieux pour ajouter des sources à ce post dans un avenir proche.

Que se passe-t-il ?

Lore.FM est un projet d'application mobile et de site web qui vise à produire des versions audio de fanfictions publiées sur le site Archive of Our Own. La créatrice du projet est particulièrement active sur Tiktok, où elle décrit le projet comme un "Audible pour Ao3". Le projet affirme avoir été créé dans une optique d'accessibilité pour les personnes malvoyantes ou celles qui préfères les formats audio. U

Il y a pourtant quelques gros, GROS problèmes inhérents à ce projet.

Le consentement des auteur.ices dont les fanfictions seraient importées sur lore.fm ne semble pas être un facteur pris en compte. C'est pour moi le plus gros problème de ce projet, qui semble destiner à faire du profit sur le travail d'autres personnes, et ce sans leur accord.

Du fait que leur travail se trouverait sur une application séparée d'Ao3, les auteur.ices ne seraient pas en mesure de recevoir des retours sur leur travail. Ni commentaires, ni bookmarks, ni kudos, pas même une simple vue.

D'après les propos de la créatrice, il serait possible de demander de faire retirer sa fic... en donnant des informations personnelles afin de prouver que l'on en est bien propriétaire, dont votre adresse, numéro de téléphone et adresse mail.

Je ne crois pas devoir expliquer pourquoi donner des informations de ce genre à des gens qui, on l'a établi, ne semblent pas se soucier du consentement d'autrui.

Quid des auteur.ices décédé.es ? Quid des personnes ayant cessé d'utiliser Ao3 ? Quid de celles qui fréquentent peu les réseaux sociaux, et pourraient ne pas avoir vu passer l'information ? Comment feront ces personnes pour défendre leur travail ?

Ce procédé est malhonnête et irrespectueux. Ce n'est pas un projet au service de la communauté, puisqu'il ne profite pas aux auteur.ices.

Un deuxième axe qu'il me semble important de mentionner est le fait que le logiciel qui transformerait le texte des fics en média audio incorpore certainement de l'intelligence artificielle partiellement ou totalement. La créatrice affirme le contraire, mais de sérieux doutes ont été émis à ce sujet.

Dans une communauté qui tourne autour de la volonté des fans à créer de leur propres mains, je ne pense pas que l'IA mérite notre attention.

Que faire ?

Tout d'abord, ne pas paniquer. Il ne sert à rien de courir supprimer toutes ses fics et de s'enfermer dans une caverne tel un ermite parce le monde est trop décevant. Ce projet, même s'il est d'une éthique douteuse, reste un simple projet, qui n'a pas encore été matérialisé.

Si vous avez peur que vos fics se retrouvent sur cette application, il existe un moyen de défense : Verrouillez vos fics. Elles ne seront plus accessibles qu'aux utilisateur.ices possédant un compte Ao3, ce qui réduit grandement le risque que vos fanfictions soient collectées par des bots, ce qui sera probablement la méthode de collecte de ce projet.

(Si vous souhaitez un tutoriel à ce sujet, n'hésitez pas à envoyer un message ou une question à ce blog)

Si vous tenez à supprimer vos fics, assurez-vous d'en garder une sauvegarde. Rien ne vous interdit de le reposter à un moment plus propice, et il serait dommage de priver le monde de tant de belles œuvres.

Si l'idée de fanfictions audio vous tente et que vous souhaiteriez en faire l'expérience de manière éthique, je vous encourage à vous pencher sur le travail de la communauté des podficcers, des fans qui se spécialisent dans l'enregistrement de version audio de fanfics, avec le consentement des auteur.ices. Vous pouvez les trouver sur Ao3 via le tag Podfic et sur Tumblr sous le tag du même nom.

Portez-vous bien, et à bientôt pour des sujets plus agréables !

[da-shrimping-station]

What in "Hell" is Bad MC

Emz (short for Emilla)

[ Info under the cut! ]

Some rapid-fire/general facts

21 yo

5'5"

dislikes spicy food and people who complain/whine a lot without doing anything about their problem

her favorite snack is oranges

has once thought about whitening her skin after being bullied but dismissed the thought after a stern talk from Minhyeok

fiercely competitive and has had incidents of being mean in PE class just to win a practice game

is jealous of people with a bigger chest than her regardless of the gender (she thinks her C cups are small)

Your run of the mill Asian daughter who was raised in a strict household. Her parents always voiced their expectations of her, especially in her schooling. She tried hard to uphold those expectations as much as possible.

currently a NEET but earns money from whatever version of OnlyFans they got there

Good grades, doing extracurriculars, doing well in cram school and making sure she beats ass in taekwondo practice. She can be a bit of an overachiever when she sets her mind on things and can be detrimental her more often than not. There's also bouts of her being a people pleaser. Modesty and prudence were hammered into her through her upbringing.

When her parents died, Emz lost all motivation and just dropped everything. Not just because of the incident itself but because she has no one to prove things to. Everything she did was more for her parents that for herself. And now with her parents no longer there, she slowly learns to do things for herself.

Minhyeok has be be her anchor or else she overworks or agree to things she shouldn't even consider in the first place. Emz can be a bit oblivious to people who try to take advantage of her.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, she found that posting pictures of herself online garnered a lot of attention and praise. This eventually turned into Emz posting risque photos. It was a small side hustle that turned into a source of income.

Now she busies herself with making content and buying props and costumes for photoshoots at home. Minhyeok knows what she's doing and sometimes even gets pulled into helping her out. Mostly through asking for his opinion and the occasional bondage themed pictures.

She works had to maintain her figure. Gym 3 times a week and strict skin care routine. She has occasional binging episodes when the stress is too much and gets bummed about it. Minhyeok has to intervene most of the time when she's like that.

Emz is willing to try anything once but has a hard time saying no when her partner is too dominating. She's a bit of a closeted perv and her 'job' lets her meet with people who can satisfy some of her sexual fantasies.

Fun fact! I was originally gonna name her Aerie Lee so her whole name sounds like "airily" cuz canon MC cannot take things seriously n all that 😭 but yea i settled on Emz/Emilla instead

[tally-kiza]

Smut alphabet for Arthur Fleck

I couldn’t resist. It’s been 84 years since I’ve attempted to write headcanons, and of all the characters to drag me back into it, it’s the Joker. My god. 

Most of these are centered around Arthur before he becomes Joker, and my take on him is probably a bit rougher than most? Just as a heads up.

Words: 3041

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare specifically? I don’t think he really... knows what that would be. He’s extremely inexperienced and most of his exposure to sex is through movies with risque scenes, dirty magazines, and locker room talk at HaHa’s. And I’m sure none of those sources talk very much about what happens after the fact. 

I think he’d just kinda... basks in the afterglow and smiles all giddily. He holds his partner close, afraid that if he lets go for even a moment they’ll disappear into smoke and this will all have been nothing but a hallucination. For as long as his partner allows, he’ll just keep holding them. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Arthur’s favorite part of his partner is definitely their mouth. Not even really in a sex way, he just adores their smile and their laugh; he could daydream about that smile all day. One of his favorite things on earth is to just. Kiss them. Long and deeply, like in his favorite old movies. Until he snaps, and suddenly his tongue is down their throat and oops it's not quite so romantic any more, so much as just very very horny.

Also tits. Dude likes himself some tits. 

His favorite body part of his own...? How could he have one when he hates everything about himself? Although if gun to head he had to pick something, it’d probably be his hair. Despite how little he gives a shit about taking care of the rest of himself, he does actually try to keep his hair nice. He thinks it makes him look almost handsome sometimes. <3

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s clear and watery. With his diet of essentially only coffee, cigarettes, and microwave dinners, it probably doesn’t taste very good either. Often after jacking himself off he’ll lick it off his hand and recoil every time. Yeah, he’s nasty like that. With a partner, he would not blame them for a second for spitting instead of swallowing. 

As much as he loves to come inside, he also gets a dirty satisfaction from coming on their face. Probably even kinda... smears it around with his softening cock, trying to cover as much of their face in it as possible. If only his come was just a bit whiter, he could get their face just as white as his when he’s playing as Carnival.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Heee steals his partner’s underwear. Or just any article of clothing of theirs he can get his hands on. Arthur feels kinda bad about it but not really. Not bad enough to not jerk off with their clothes in his fist. Though he is very very careful to never get his cum on it. He would never admit his filthy habit in a hundred years... unless his partner asks him straight up. Then just like how he confessed to Sophie about how he followed her, he’ll admit it with the cockiest of nervous little smiles on his face, hoping they’ll be into it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mans is a virgin. He’s about as inexperienced as you can get. I’d be willing to bet he’s a kissless virgin at that, before he macked one right onto Dr. Sally on live television of course. Because of his inexperience, he’s kinda clueless on what he’s doing. Sure, he’s read more than his fair share of dirty magazines but most didn’t exactly explain what to do. The first couple times he fucks, he’ll be kinda fumbling, wide-eyed and curious, and definitely comes early. It might take him a while to adjust to the learning curve but he’s a very eager student in the meantime. He has more than enough hungry enthusiasm to make it a fun time regardless.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I’m genuinely not sure if he really has one. He’s just happy to be there. But he does love any position that lets him deeply kiss his partner.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think it... depends. Above all things, Arthur is unpredictable. Just in general. I think he almost switches between moods during sex, seemingly at random, from shy one moment to humorous the next―perhaps to stave off his nerves and performance anxiety―and then serious the next. However sweet or shy or goofy the romp of the day may start, in all his efforts to see that beautiful smile and hear that laugh again, the moment the clothes start coming off, his attempts at humor die off and like a switch flips, his eyes burn dark and hungry, and he wants nothing more than to fuck you for hours.

As he becomes the Joker though? Oh mans is just a silly lil guy when he fucks. He giggles, he cries, he tries to tell jokes to get a smile on his partner’s face... Though perhaps macabre humor while balls deep isn’t the best of times or places. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

99% of the time Arthur doesn’t bother shaving anything. He shaves his face, save sideburns, and nothing else. The only time he might shave his junk is before a big date... or what he thinks will be a date. And even then, he only trims it to a short length, so it looks neat and respectable. :)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He has big dreams of being very romantic and intimate during sex. Not exactly rose petals and candles, but that type of wistful longing romance and blazingly romantic speeches you see a lot in old films. Arthur tries so, so hard to be as suave and romantic as them. Maybe too much so? He kinda flubs it. The veneer cracks and his innate awkwardness shows through. If he gets in his head about it too much, he won’t be able to continue and finish. When he stops trying to be something he’s not though, and just lets himself be, (not in the Joker-y way, this is still Arthur here―) he can be very romantic in his own right. Muttering sweet words into his partner’s neck and holding them tenderly around the waist, even as he loses his rhythm and ends up bucking frantically into them. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Arthur’s fantasies run wild when he jerks off. Most often on the couch, late at night, with his pants half off and his briefs pulled down just enough for him to fist his cock. Sometimes smoking a cheap cigarette all the while. He fantasizes of being a total casanova, sweeping his partner off their feet; of making love for hours; of a universe where he’s a braver man and takes his partner right in the middle of a dance floor and shows everyone to whom they belong. In Arthur’s fantasies he’s not completely clumsy and groping blindly like he knows he actually would be in real life. He desperately hopes he can make his fantasies a reality someday. He knows he won’t though. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Despite how often the world beats him down again and again, I actually think he’d be into sadism and masochism. Sadism slightly more so. He’d be timid and hesitant about S/M at first, but when he’s had a bad enough day... a slap to the face hits just right, so to speak. It never feels bad when it's with his partner, when he knows―hopes―they love him. Some choking in particular makes his cock throb and his brain feel fuzzy in the best ways, whether giving or receiving. 

Also, shotgunning. Shotgunning the smoke from his partially-smoked Pall Mall into his partner’s mouth while he stares darkly into their eyes is one of the easiest ways to get him wildly riled up. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Every surface in his damn apartment. The couch, the armchair, against a wall, a table, the floor, kitchen countertops. The only place off-limits is his mom’s bed when she’s out of the apartment for whatever reason. That’s before he kills her, of course. After he kills her, he’s probably more than happy to hate-fuck in her bed. I don’t know if he’d really have a favorite location though. The romantic in him craves to make love in a cozy bed. The desperate loner in him is just happy to fuck anywhere at all. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This one... is difficult for me. Because Arthur just gets so attached so easily. A woman only so much as talked with him once in an elevator once and he was so smitten that he stalked her around the city. So I think what gets him going? ...Any romantic affection at all. He is so desperate for love and recognition, that if he so much as got a hug and a kiss, his dick would shake off its meds/cigs-induced ED and instantly get rock fuckin hard. Okay maybe not rock hard. But aroused for sure.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think a mommy/daddy kink would be a definite no for him. Especially after he kills his mom. When he hears the petname of mommy, his erection is officially dead. Goodbye, farewell, see you another day, orgasm! Also not a complete no, but I don’t think Arthur’s very comfortable bottoming. Makes him feel uncomfortably vulnerable, even if he does trust his partner wholeheartedly. He prefers to be on top.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Arthur will tell himself that he prefers giving, comforting himself with how it makes him feel so romantic and gentlemanly. And while he does fucking love it, even if he’s not the best at it―loves having the most beautiful view of watching them unravel just for him in a way that makes him feel so very real... He can’t lie to himself, deep down. He prefers to receive. 

Arthur would trade an arm and a leg for a blow job, I think. Not even necessarily a good one. Like, he’ll accept teeth. He just craves any at all. One of his favorite fantasies is guiding his partner to take his cock, being very gentle and romantic about it... And then throat fucking them until they’re a mess of drool and tears and his come. Good luck ever getting him to confess that, though.

Ahaha but Joker fucking lives for when his partner has their monthly, if they’re able to. After he makes them come, giggling all the while, and his face is covered in blood and juices... much like the ending scene of the movie, he smears it into his signature painted smile. He delights in it. Nasty nasty rat of a man. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual and very very sweet on a good day. When he can take his time and treat them like the god/dess he views them to be. But on some bad days... well, his frustration needs to go somewhere. He’ll grip hips hard enough to bruise, his ribs press sharply into them,  and he snaps his own bony hips against theirs hard enough to hurt. In the heat of the moment, he’ll cover their neck and collar in hickies and dark marks. He’ll drive them to orgasm as many times as he needs until he can feel like a fucking person again, until they’re nothing but a puddle of a person left beneath him.

Other bad days, he’s just... tired. When he doesn’t have the frustration to go rough, or the heart to go sweet, he just collapses into his partner’s warm embrace, naked and sad and accepting of all the loving they’re beyond generous enough to bestow upon him. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies galore, here, there, and everywhere. Arthur loves ‘em. Most of the time he prefers to take his time with his partner but sometimes he’s just so horny and can’t wait to get inside them, that he can’t help but indulge. His favorite kind of quickie is to take his partner against a wall, hard and roughly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risks as in, exhibitionism? Mmmno, no, I don’t think so. Gotham being... the way it is, and his neighborhood in particular being so seedy, I don’t think he’d ever wanna do anything in public. Besides. No one can ever see his partner in the throes of intimacy. That’s his view and his alone. If anyone else ever sees his partner midfuck, his fingers will itch for his .38. 

Other experimentation however? Probably not a majorly experimental guy. Once he figures out what in particular he likes, I think he’s perfectly content to just rotate between those as the night calls for. But if his partner really wants to try something experimental, he can be convinced with a kiss. Or a handjob. Or a compliment. He’s easily convinced.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

One round and uhhh not very long at all. Between the meds and how his smoking habit is slowly decaying his body, it can be hard enough to... get hard enough, haha, just to finish one round at all. And with how touch starved he is, he can only last a couple minutes of direct touching. Do not be surprised if he comes in his pants even. He feels embarrassed about it sometimes. :(

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Do the couch cushions count? I wouldn’t entirely put it past him to fuck into a pillow or the cushions as if it were a fleshlight, or the real thing. But otherwise no, Arthur has no toys for himself. If his partner had some that he could use on them, I think he would use them but it’d rile him up afterwards, purely out of jealousy that this little object can make his partner just as aroused as he can. He’ll be determined to make them come even harder afterwards if they come from the toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

At first, teasing didn’t even occur to Arthur. He was just content to explore his partner’s body with something akin to wide-eyed innocence. He didn’t even realize that by ogling them and running his hands all over them and caressing them nigh reverently, just how much those simple touches could get them worked up. When he notices how flustered he can make them, without even trying, a gleeful little smile tugs at his mouth, and suddenly, he just found his new favorite pastime.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Well, living with his mom for probably his whole life, Arthur’s learned to keep quiet. At most his breathing will get heavy and he’ll whimper and grunt quietly. With the space to be vocal however? Yeah, he’ll probably still be very quiet. It’s a hard habit to shake. Though, he’ll be confident enough to mutter dirty talk into his partner’s ears. It won’t be hot dirty talk; it’ll probably be kind of awkward and unsure, but he’s enjoying himself and that's what matters!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ahh, this fancy dancer of a man. Arthur goes wild for a strip tease, especially to some soft old-timey music. Whether it’s him or his partner stripping, it’s guaranteed to get him very aroused regardless. He’s probably practiced strip teasing on his own, late at night in the living room after his mother’s gone to bed. He peels off his shirt and cardigan in time with the music of the old movie playing on TV in the corner, until he’s just in his briefs and bunched white socks. The whole time he can’t help but imagine the fawning reaction of his dream partner. Despite the inherent sexual nature of it, like everytime Arthur dances, there is a grace and flow to his movements that is just... beautiful. 

Also, after he finally starts fuckin’ for the first time, he watches tons of movies with dirty scenes in them and writes down in his notebook his favorite sexy lines and tips to himself. He’s dedicated to being as smooth a lover as all the most charming old timey actors.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is average in thickness and length, probably between 5 inches to 6 inches long (12-15 cm). He’s probably cut but has some very pretty veins and a prominent raphe. As for his balls, they’re probably delightfully average as well, not sagging but not particularly tight either.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s probably all over the place. Touch-starved as Arthur is, he has a naturally high sex drive, but while on his medications, he struggles with both getting/maintaining an erection, and working up the arousal to want sex often. After he quits his medications though? Oh, boy. Yeah, that naturally high sex drive is itching at him stronger than ever. And with the mania setting in, he... fucks like an animal. His stamina is at an all-time high, so he can just keep going for hours and hours and hours. He’ll be crying with a smile on his face the whole time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t. He doesn’t sleep at night most of the time anyway, ha. Instead, after sex, Arthur’s wide awake, half-shaking with the adrenaline of his recent orgasm. He stares at his partner trying to brand the image of them and everything he did with them into his brain so that he doesn’t forget a single second. He feels so good, that for the first time in... years? ―He’s not craving a cigarette just to feel a fleeting minute of happiness.

[problematic-fictive-edits]

hello! may i please request a stimboard for a morty smith (rick and morty) fictive? i would prefer soft colors and items, with maybe playing and stuffed animal stims? thank you!

~🦇Homulilly

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[myemuisemo]

"Modern Belgian masters" distracted me at the beginning of chapter V of The Hound of the Baskervilles in the most recent Letters from Watson. Doyle's offhand references to literature, pop culture, and politics usually have some substance behind them, and "modern Belgian masters" did not disappoint.

Belgium was a hotbed of artistic controversy! In 1876, a group of "rebellious" artists can formed what became L'Essor as a counterpoint to conservative art institutions. In 1883, L'Essor refused to exhibit James Ensor's De oestereetster on grounds that the painting was too risque (since oysters were considered an aphrodisiac, as well as resembling certain female parts). Rebels against L'Essor formed Les XX, which held its own exhibitions featuring more avant-garde artists, including Monet, Gauguin, Van Gogh, and Seurat.

Since Watson refers to Holmes having "the crudest ideas" about art, I'm guessing Holmes sided with Les XX on using experimental styles and unusual subjects to provoke (and to make political points). Whether the conversation included Ensor's etching Le pisseur, which shows Ensor urinating on a wall of graffiti that declares "Ensor es fou" (Ensor is crazy)... we can only hope.

This is just the beginning of a chapter that contains a lot of sly humor. For instance, when Holmes social-engineers information out of the desk clerk, the guests he asks about are a coal-merchant from Newcastle (so known for its coal that the phrase "like taking coals to Newscastle" meant taking a thing to a place where everyone already has plenty) and a very old lady named Mrs. Oldmore.

Sir Henry Baskerville establishes himself as rough-edged, choleric, and unaware of social nuance by yelling at the German waiter. Being rude to any staff would have been seen as ungentlemanly at the time (as now). There's more to it, though. Germans were the largest immigrant group in London in 1889, and their tradition of professional training made them highly in demand as waiters (source).

And then there's the man with the black beard, who has the wit and gall to tell the cab driver that he's Sherlock Holmes. It seems that there have not been sketches of Holmes in any press! Is he the same man with a black beard as butler Barrymore?

The telegram experiment seems to indicate not, but I'm not sure how probative it is.

The bearded man in the cab had his cab driver make haste to Waterloo Station, which served the London & Southwestern Railway. The L&SR took a northern route around Dartmoor, stopping at Exeter and Plymouth.

Watson and Sir Henry will be leaving from Paddington Station, which served the Great Western Railway. GWR takes the southern route along the Devon coast.

When I look at modern railroad schedules, a trip from London to somewhere around Dartmoor takes about 3.5 hours. Is that within the time frame of Sir Henry and Mortimer walking back to the Northumberland, the wait for Holmes and Dr. Watson to arrive for lunch, the luncheon itself, and finally the rigamarole of sending the telegram? It feels to me like it could be -- and also, when I was looking up old schedules for the short story with the missing train, it seems that sometimes Victorian lines ran faster than modern ones.

How common even were black beards? In latter half of the 19th century, beards were fashionable, though not universal. Dr. Alun Withey's discussion of 19th century beard styles shows an ad for false beards. The style at far right looks about right.

It's possible that someone is framing -- or just confusing the issue by imitating -- the butler Barrymore.

We are assured again that Rodger Baskerville died unmarried, which is starting to strike me as "protesteth too much."

Rodger is the one who went to make his fortune in South America. The largest silver deposits were in Bolivia and Peru, and Agatha Christie's Hastings goes to Argentina, so those are the countries where I started on looking for when civil registration of marriages and births started. The answers are 1940 in Bolivia, 1886 in Peru, and 1886 in Argentina. Peru did not start registering deaths until 1889. Before that time, proving a marriage or a birth meant going to the parish church records.

So the Baskerville family solicitor could not simply send a telegram to a government agency in the capital of Bolivia, nor hire a clerk at a Bolivian law office in the capital city to go check. Someone would have to identify the parish where Rodger would have married, produced an heir, or died -- which might be three different places. And then someone has to see about looking through a handwritten register.

How sure are we really that Rodger is even dead?

Since Holmes is so eager to send Watson along with Sir Henry, I assume he's counting on Watson's credulity to maximize the impact of planned shenanigans. Is this a story about a mysterious dog or a story about a grift?

[lisaalmeida]

Je ne suis pas intéressé par ce que tu fais pour vivre.

Je veux savoir ce qui brûle en toi

et si tu oses rêver la réalisation

de ce que tu portes dans le coeur.

Je ne suis pas intéressé par ton âge.

Je veux savoir si tu prends le risque de passer pour un fou au nom de l'amour,

de tes rêves et de l'aventure qu'est la vie.

Je ne suis pas intéressé à savoir quelles planètes sont en carré avec la lune.

Je veux savoir si tu as touché le centre de la tristesse, si tu as été ouvert aux trahisons de la vie ou si tu es devenu endurci et fermé par peur d'une peine prochaine.

Je veux savoir si tu peux t'asseoir

avec la douleur, la mienne ou la tienne, sans bouger pour la cacher, l'amoindrir ou l'arrêter.

Je veux savoir si tu peux être dans la joie, la mienne ou la tienne, si tu peux danser avec ferveur et laisser l'extase te remplir complètement, jusqu'au bout de tes doigts et de tes orteils, sans me dire de faire attention, d'être réaliste et de ne pas oublier les limites de l'être humain.

Je ne suis pas intéressé à savoir si ce que tu me dis est vrai, je veux savoir si tu es prêt à décevoir les autres pour rester vrai avec toi-même et si tu peux supporter d'être accusé de trahison

et ne pas trahir ton âme.

Je veux savoir si tu peux être fidèle

et donc digne de confiance,

Je veux savoir si tu peux voir la beauté même lorsque ce n'est pas tous les jours bien joli et si tu nourris ta vie à la Source

de Sa Présence.

Je veux savoir si tu peux vivre avec des échecs, les miens ou les tiens et pourtant continuer à te tenir debout au bord du lac en criant comme la pleine lune argentée : OUI !

Je ne suis pas intéressé à savoir où tu vis et combien tu gagnes.

Je veux savoir si tu peux te réveiller après une nuit de chagrin et de désespoir, de lassitude ou de douleur et faire ce qui doit être fait pour les enfants

Je ne suis pas intéressé à savoir

qui tu es et comme tu es venu jusqu'ici.

Je veux savoir si tu peux te tenir au milieu du feu avec moi et ne pas te dérober.

Je ne suis pas intéressé à savoir ce que tu as appris, où tu l'as appris et qui te l'a enseigné.

Je veux savoir ce qui te nourrit de l'intérieur lorsque tout s'effondre autour de toi.

Je veux savoir si tu peux rester

avec toi-même et si tu jouis vraiment

de ta propre compagnie dans ces moments de vide".

ORIAH Mountain Dreamer

[microsoftlicensesworld]

Les Avantages du Véganisme pour la Santé : Comment une Alimentation Sans Produits Animaux Peut Améliorer Votre Bien-être

Le véganisme est bien plus qu'un simple régime alimentaire; c'est un mode de vie qui exclut l'utilisation de tout produit d'origine animale, y compris la viande, les produits laitiers, les œufs et même le miel. Les avantages du véganisme pour la santé sont nombreux et bien documentés, et adopter ce mode de vie peut avoir un impact significatif sur votre bien-être général.

Une alimentation végétalienne est naturellement riche en fibres, en antioxydants et en nutriments essentiels tels que les vitamines C et E, ainsi que le magnésium et le potassium. Ces éléments nutritifs sont connus pour leur capacité à renforcer le système immunitaire, à favoriser une peau saine et à réduire le risque de maladies cardiovasculaires et de certains types de cancer.

En évitant les produits d'origine animale, vous réduisez également votre consommation de graisses saturées et de cholestérol, ce qui peut aider à prévenir les maladies cardiaques et à abaisser votre taux de cholestérol sanguin. De plus, les régimes végétaliens ont été associés à une meilleure gestion du poids et à un risque réduit d'obésité, ce qui peut avoir des avantages considérables pour la santé à long terme.

Les avantages du véganisme pour la santé ne se limitent pas seulement aux aspects physiques, mais s'étendent également à la santé mentale. De nombreuses personnes qui adoptent un mode de vie végétalien rapportent une amélioration de leur bien-être émotionnel, une plus grande clarté mentale et une augmentation de l'énergie. En outre, la compassion envers les animaux et l'environnement qui sous-tend le véganisme peut contribuer à un sentiment de satisfaction personnelle et à un état d'esprit positif.

L'une des préoccupations courantes concernant le véganisme est la possibilité de carences nutritionnelles, en particulier en ce qui concerne les protéines, le calcium et la vitamine B12. Cependant, avec une planification appropriée et une alimentation variée, il est tout à fait possible d'obtenir tous les nutriments nécessaires à partir d'une alimentation végétalienne équilibrée. De plus, de nos jours, il existe de nombreuses alternatives végétales aux produits d'origine animale, ce qui rend plus facile que jamais de suivre un régime végétalien tout en maintenant une alimentation nutritive et délicieuse.

En conclusion, les avantages du véganisme pour la santé sont multiples et variés. Adopter une alimentation sans produits animaux peut non seulement améliorer votre santé physique en réduisant le risque de maladies chroniques, mais aussi favoriser un bien-être émotionnel et mental optimal. En embrassant le véganisme, vous contribuez également à la protection des animaux et de l'environnement, ce qui ajoute une dimension supplémentaire de gratification personnelle à ce mode de vie éthique et durable.

https://www.quora.com/profile/Tonu-55/D%C3%A9forestation-et-industrie-de-la-viande-Les-liens-souvent-ignor%C3%A9s-La-d%C3%A9forestation-et-lindustrie-de-la-viande-http

https://tannda.net/read-blog/60098_demystifier-le-mythe-des-proteines-explorer-les-differentes-sources-et-beins-nut.html

https://www.adlocalpages.com/pro/20240502184910

https://network-66643.mn.co/posts/56000332

https://www.osogbo.com/pro/20240502125339

https://www.addonface.com/read-blog/57284_les-bienfaits-pour-la-sante-et-la-durabilite-du-regime-vegetalien-un-avenir-meil.html

https://geoamor.com/read-blog/16182_analyse-des-couts-environnementaux-de-l-039-industrie-de-la-viande-impact-sur-la.html

https://mighty-men.mn.co/posts/56000479

https://pig-landtin.mn.co/posts/56000630

https://mynetsohbet.mn.co/posts/56000669

[atla-confessions]

I'm still reeling over how POC, including indigenous people, were discussing the nuances of how the Ember Island Play is an interesting satire of racism and propaganda, including the infantilization and emasculation of cultures like Aang's to mirror the explicitly racist way certain East Asian cultures are portrayed, and dumbing down Sokka and oversexualizing Katara by aging her up and making her outfit risque in a clear Pocahontas-affect in a clear parallel of how indigenous men and women were portrayed by colonizers, complete with the racism and baggage that came with putting her with their prince in the play.

And zutara shippers told them to shut up about the racial and colonization analyses because they were apparently making it up and reaching, and they should only focus on the shipping aspects of atla.

POC (indigenous!) who's never heard of Zutarian's pulling this phenomenon, here!

please (respectfully) do some source-citing, because, regretfully, this ask above sounds like propaganda itself

X