#rose valley scam

[banglakhobor]

নুসরতের পাল্টা লকেট, BJP সাংসদের বিরুদ্ধে মারাত্মক অভিযোগে ইডি-র দ্বারস্থ তৃণমূল

কলকাতা: তৃণমূল সাংসদ নুসরাত জাহানের বিরুদ্ধে অভিযোগের পাল্টা তৃণমূলের পক্ষ থেকে অভিযোগ করা হল বিজেপি সাংসদ লকেট চট্টোপাধ্যায় বিরুদ্ধে। শুক্রবার সকালে ইডি দফতরে গিয়ে বিধাননগর পৌর নিগমের তৃণমূল কাউন্সিলর তুলসী সিনহা রায় আইনজীবীদের সঙ্গে নিয়ে লকেটের বিরুদ্ধে এই বিষয়ে অভিযোগ জানান। তিনি জানান, ”ইডি বিভিন্ন তদন্তে যুক্ত হয়েছে, তারা তদন্ত করছে আর আমরা দেখছি এই তদন্তে কিছু বিরোধী দলের লোকেদেরকেই…

[rightnewshindi]

रोज वैली चिटफंड घोटाले के 12 करोड़ लौटाएगी ईडी, सहारा में निवेश करने वालों की बढ़ी आस

सरकारी जांच एजेंसी प्रवर्तन निदेशालय (ED) रोज वैली चिटफंड घोटाले के जमाकर्ताओं को 12 करोड़ रुपये लौटाने की तैयारी कर रही है. ऐसे में सहारा के निवेशकों के लिए भी आस जगी है. क्योंकि, सहारा ग्रुप के संकट में जाने के बाद लाखों लोगों का करोड़ों रुपया अटका हुआ है. हालांकि, इस मामले में भी सरकार सहारा के जमाकर्ताओं का पैसा लौटा रही है. सरकार सहारा समूह के जमाकर्ताओं को रिफंड का पैसा सीआरसीएस पोर्टल के…

[fictionally-driven]

Chapter 2: Purple Sage

pairing: Wriothesley x f! reader

trigger warnings: violence, blood, murder, imprisonment, suggestive, ptsd, mentions of child abuse, false convictions, recovery, anxiety, scamming

AN: If anyone wants to be a part of the taglist for this series, please let me know via comments/reblogs or asks. Reblogs of the work are always appreciated. Thank you!

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Wriothesley closed the file with a heavy thud, a deep frown etched across his face. (Y/N) was her name; he’d gathered that from the file. She was a florist, which explained why she had seemed quite annoyed about the flowers when she stumbled against him that evening in Fontaine. Her records up until recently were clean—those of a law-abiding citizen. But the last few pages of the file painted a damning picture: she’d been convicted of the murder of a merchant.

The case was laid out methodically, almost too neatly. The merchant, a man with whom (Y/N) had a known feud over business disputes, had met a gruesome end. The bouquet of Lumidouce Bells and edible flowers was sprayed with the toxic concentrate of Lily of the Valley, a deadly concoction. He had touched the flowers, unwittingly transferring the poison onto his skin, and then used the edible flowers to make tea. The poison took its toll swiftly, leaving little room for doubt.

The investigation had moved quickly. The merchant's son-in-law was the first to raise suspicions, his voice ringing loud and clear in the aftermath of the merchant's death. The body was analyzed in the morgue, revealing traces of the toxic concentrate. Vials of similar toxins were found in the backroom of (Y/N)'s flower shop, seemingly sealing her fate. She insisted on her innocence, claiming she had delivered the flowers to a servant, but the evidence was damning. The court sentenced her to twenty-five years in Meropide.

Wriothesley placed the closed file to the side, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the desk. Everything was too convenient, too perfect in its damning assembly. He had been informed by the Gardes that Sigewinne had taken (Y/N) to the infirmary after she was tricked for her coupons and given stale food. Anyone in Meropide knew the cafeteria food was free, though randomized. How could someone who allegedly planned a murder so meticulously be naive enough to trust strangers with her coupons?

His curiosity piqued, Wriothesley rose from his chair and made his way to the infirmary. The corridors of Meropide were familiar to him like the back of his hand. After all, for most of his life, it had been his home. The metallic clang of doors and the distant murmur of voices faded into the background as he approached the infirmary.

Inside, Sigewinne was at her desk, humming a cheerful tune as she filed paperwork. The Melusine’s small form was a stark contrast to the grim surroundings, her presence a rare beacon of warmth for the inmates of Meropide. A mug filled with what could only be one of her infamous milkshakes sat beside her, its odd color indicative of her peculiar tastes.

"Your Grace!" Sigewinne beamed as he entered, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Would you like a milkshake? I made it myself."

Wriothesley chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head. “No, thank you, Sigewinne. I think I’ll pass.”

Sigewinne’s milkshakes were notorious in Meropide for their peculiar ingredients, which she swore by for their health benefits. Wriothesley had tried them multiple times, and it had taken all his self-control not to gag. He couldn't help but wonder what bizarre ingredients she had blended this time.

"How is she?" he asked, his tone softening.

Sigewinne glanced towards one of the infirmary beds where (Y/N) lay, her face pale and drawn. “She’s resting now. I’ve given her something to settle her stomach and some proper food to regain her strength.” Her expression softened. “She was in pretty bad shape when I brought her in. Dehydration, fatigue, stress… you name it. I have also given something for the blisters on her palms."

Wriothesley walked over to (Y/N)'s bedside, his gaze taking in her fragile state. Even in her weakened condition, there was a quiet strength in her features. His mind drifted back to their encounter in Fontaine. She had been full of life then, her eyes sparking with annoyance and fire. Now, they were closed, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Thank you, Sigewinne," he said, turning back to the Melusine. "Keep an eye on her for me, will you. I have a feeling she’ll need any assistance she can get here to get back on her feet." Wriothesley moved closer, his presence imposing yet gentle. He could see the faint lines of worry on (Y/N)'s forehead, the dark circles under her eyes. She had clearly been through an ordeal.

(Y/N)'s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, confusion clouded her gaze. Then recognition dawned, and she stiffened, clearly remembering their previous encounter. "You," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Wriothesley nodded. "Yes, it's me. I'm Wriothesley, the Warden of Meropide."

Her eyes widened in shock and horror, her voice barely above a whisper. “I... I'm so sorry about your shoes..."

He glanced down at his boots, now cleaned and showing no signs of the events from earlier. "Don't worry about it," he said, waving her apology away. "It's just a pair of shoes, they’re all cleaned up."

She tried to sit up, but Wriothesley clicked his tongue, gently pressing her back down. "Rest. Rest here as long as Sigewinne allows you to. After all, the mattresses here in the infirmary are far more comfortable than the ones in the dorms." He paused, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "But don't tell anyone I said that. I’d get into trouble as the Warden for admitting such things."

A chuckle escaped her lips, a small but genuine sound that seemed to lighten the room as he wiped away the remaining tears from her cheeks.

Wriothesley’s expression softened further. "How many coupons did you lose earlier?"

Her gaze wavered, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. He repeated his question, his voice gentle. "You won't get into any trouble, (Y/N). Just tell me who tricked you."

Her gaze became downcast, avoiding his eyes. "I... I don't remember their names," she stammered.

Wriothesley could see she was lying, her eyes wavering and unable to meet his gaze. He decided not to press further. "How much did you lose?" he asked again.

"200," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Wriothesley sighed. He had seen her records and knew that it was her first wage from the production zone. Even now, when she had the opportunity to lie about the credit coupons to inflate their number, she stuck to the truth. He reached into his pocket and handed her 200 coupons.

She shook her head, her eyes widening. "I can't take these," she protested.

"Yes, you can," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"No, really, I can't," she said, pushing the coupons back towards him. "I don't deserve them."

Wriothesley clicked his tongue again, shaking his head. "You're not in a position to refuse help. Take the coupons. Consider it as me compensating it for damaging your flowers a few days ago.”

"But—" she started.

"No buts," he interrupted. "You need these more than I do."

She hesitated, her hand trembling as she finally took the coupons. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Wriothesley nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just get some rest and recover. We'll figure out the rest later."

(Y/N) let out a very shaky breath, covering her eyes with the back of her arm. Wriothesley could see her lips quiver, understanding that she was holding back her tears. He understood the need for composure despite her vulnerable state.

“It was all a mistake,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I shouldn’t be here. I… I didn’t kill anyone!”

Wriothesley didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his position pressing down on him. As the Warden, he was expected to remain impartial, to enforce the law without bias. But his conscience whispered that there was truth in her words, something in her demeanor that spoke of sincerity and desperation.

“Be that as it may,” he said carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision, “if what you say is true, it will eventually come to light. The truth has a way of surfacing, and when it does, you will be a free person.”

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Who knows how long that will take,” she muttered, frustration lacing her voice.

Wriothesley hummed in agreement. “I can’t change the verdict that’s been passed, but I can assure you that Meropide isn’t as terrible as the surface world makes it out to be.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “My experience says otherwise,” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “I dislike it here. It’s so gloomy, and the constant metal clanking noises startle me. People are rude and hostile. There’s no sunlight, no fresh air, and not a single plant or a shred of greenery here that isn’t mold!” Her words tumbled out in a tense ramble, each complaint pouring from her as if a dam had burst. “Here, everything is gray and lifeless. No offense.”

Wriothesley chuckled softly at her last remark. “Of all the things you could list, you’re concerned about the lack of plants?”

She looked at him, her eyes fierce despite the tears brimming in them. “You’d be surprised how plants can liven up even the dreariest environments,” she retorted. “I miss my flowers and plants. They brought me peace, a sense of normalcy. Even in the worst of times, they were a constant.”

Wriothesley nodded thoughtfully, her words resonating with him. "I suppose you're right," he conceded. "Plants do have a way of brightening up a space."

(Y/N) sighed, the tension in her body slowly ebbing away. "I miss my shop, my work…" she murmured, more to herself than to him. "The smell of fresh flowers, the way the sun would filter through the windows in the morning. It was my sanctuary."

Wriothesley leaned against the infirmary bed, his arms crossed. "Tell me about it," he encouraged, sensing that talking might help ease her distress.

She glanced at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. But she took a deep breath and began. "It wasn't much, just a small shop in a quiet part of Fontaine that I inherited from my grandmother. I grew all the plants myself, tended to them every day. There were always fresh bouquets in the window, and people would come in just to admire them, even if they didn't buy anything. I loved seeing their faces light up. There was this one little girl who would visit every week, just to smell the flowers. It was... peaceful."

Wriothesley listened intently, picturing the vibrant little shop she described. "Sounds like a lovely place," he said softly.

"It was," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "And now... it's all gone."

Wriothesley leaned closer, his expression softening. "Don't give up hope yet," he urged. "If you were wrongfully convicted, then I have faith in the Iudex of Fontaine to uncover the truth. Chief Justice Neuvillette is no longer reliant on the Oratrice. He's thorough and fair. If there is evidence to prove your innocence, he will find it."

She looked at him, a flicker of hope mingling with her lingering despair. "But what if it takes too long? What if it never happens?" she whispered, her voice fragile.

"Once you've recovered and feel well-rested," Wriothesley continued, "come see me in my office. We'll talk more about your case and see what we can do to get you a fair review."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wriothesley turned to Sigewinne, who had been silently watching their exchange. He gave the Melusine a nod, a silent request to take good care of (Y/N). "Keep an eye on her," he said, his voice gentle. "Make sure she gets the care she needs."

"Of course, Your Grace," Sigewinne replied with a warm smile. "She'll be well looked after."

With one last glance at (Y/N), Wriothesley left the infirmary, his mind already racing with thoughts and plans. As he walked through the familiar corridors of Meropide, he mentally prepared himself to write to Neuvillette. He knew that if anyone could uncover the truth, it was Neuvillette. The man's dedication to justice was unparalleled.

Arriving at his office, Wriothesley sat down at his desk, pulling out parchment and ink. His thoughts were focused, determined. He wrote to Neuvillette first, outlining the details of (Y/N)'s case and his concerns about the evidence that seemed too neatly arranged. He trusted Neuvillette's judgment and knew that if anyone could see through a potential miscarriage of justice, it was the Chief Justice.

Next, he penned a request to the Spina di Rosula, something that was second nature to him despite remaining elusive to its boss. He’d often contacted them to make requests for material and goods for Meropide and this time was no different.

Sealing the letters, Wriothesley leaned back in his chair. (Y/N) deserved justice, and he was committed to doing everything in his power to ensure that the truth was uncovered. Meropide might be a place of punishment, but it was also a place where hope could still thrive in the form of second chances and a reset, whichever was to one’s liking. He handed the letters to his trusted Gardes as he retired for the day.

The corridors of Meropide seemed a little less cold as he made his way back to his quarters. The clang of metal doors and the murmur of voices faded into the background, his thoughts focused on the task ahead. He would ensure that (Y/N)'s voice was heard, and that if she was indeed innocent, she would find her freedom once more.

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taglist: - @local-x-reader

[rainbowxocs]

TW: Mentions of religious trauma and child abuse.

Notes by the greatest guy ever~ Me of course.

Name: Michael Elizabeth Ansley.

My parents thought I was going to be a girl- So they had to change my name at the last minute.

Alt Name: Michael Morningstar. Barf-

Special Titles: Crown Prince of Hell, Michael Morningstar. Also Barf. Dr. Michael Ansley, False God, Narrator.

Old Titles: “M”, “God”, “Lord of Darkness”. ALSO Barf-

Username: theliteralantichrist

Nicknames: Mikey, “Emo Boy”, Hero.

Age: 27.

Pronouns: He/They/Rot.

Sexuality: Gay.

Gender: Nonbinary, Gendervoid, HolyGoric. I would describe my gender as a rotting corpse to be honest-

Species: Hybrid (Antichrist.)

Disorders: Panic Disorder, CPTSD, Autism, Insomnia, Bipolar 2, ASPD, Anorexia, Checking OCD.

Physical Disabilities: Blind, Chronic Pain.

Recovering Addictions: LSD, Alcohol, Mushrooms, Self Harm, Nicotine (Vape).

Religion: Atheist. Religions are scams, which I of all people should know-

Job: None, At the moment. ……

Current Major: Pediatrics.

Degrees: Psychology Degree.

Lives in: WV, America, 2034. Country roads.. take me home..

Languages: English.

Height: 4’9” >:(

Race: White.

Ethnicity: Demonic.

Accent: Soft, Southern.

Monster Form: Sharp Claws, Sharp Teeth, Boney Elongated Form, Big Horns, Animalistic.

I don’t like this form..

Powers: Time Travel, Teleporting, Telekinesis, Fire Manipulation, Flight, Summoning, Sucking Life Force/Souls, Hypnosis, Possession, Strings, Necromancy, Omens, Shapeshifting, Mass Destruction.

If I wasn’t lazy I could probably take over the world.

Weapons: Knives.

Strings Form: Pink Spiderweb.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

Text Color: Pink, Red when Upset.

Main Animal: Dog.

Main Hobbies: Sewing, Video Games, Fashion/Dressing Up, Crafting, Knitting, Needlefelting.

I like doing things hands on.. It gives me something to do.

Diet: Carnivorous, Raw Diet.

Whether I eat meat or raw meat is a different story- Strawberries are really tasty.

Favorite Drink: Strawberry Shortcake Coffee, Strawberry Chocolate Tea, Hwache, Strawberry Boba, Strawberry Monster Energy.

Favorite Fruit: Watermelon.

Favorite Meal: Pork Brains, Steak Tartar, Gumbo, Sashimi, Spaghetti, Katsudon, Dinosaur Nuggets and Fries, Pancakes, Fruit Sandwiches, Sago Soup.

Favorite Candy: White Chocolate, Gummy Worms, Salt Water Taffy, Konpieto.

Favorite Dessert: Strawberry Shortcake, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Gingerbread Cookies, Strawberry Icecream, Dirt Cake, Pavlova.

Favorite Flower: Pink Forget Me Nots.

Scent: Rose Cologne, Barbie Detangler.

Why do you need to know this about me-

Handedness: Right Handed.

Blood Color: Black, Sometimes Red.

Birthday: December 25th 2007 (Capricorn)

My birthday is… kind of ironic…

Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: Wrote his very own Bible for his religion, has a stuffed animal collection, Has a magical girl collection.

Special Interests: Stardew, Minecraft, Slime Rancher, Animal Crossing, The Sims, Pokémon, Coraline, My Little Pony, Moomin Valley, Strawberry Shortcake, Fairy Princess Minky Momo, Sanrio. :)

Stims: Handflapping, Mouse Cheese, Sensory Cube, Pink Tangle, Pop it Game.

Stimboard: LINK

Moodboard: LINK

Fashionboard: LINK

Comfort Objects: Cat Plush, Cow Pillow Pets, Pink Slime Plush, Pokémon plushies, Killer (Teddy Bear), Gloomy Bear, Bluey Plush.

My Pokémon Team!:

In Games:

Animal Crossing:

Stardew Valley:

(Credit to this portrait maker)

Minecraft Skin: LINK

Family:

Lucifer Morningstar, Elijah Morningstar. (Fathers.) ……

Lilith Morningstar. (Stepmother)

Raven Ansley. (Mother.) :)

Ezequiel Ansley. (Stepfather)

Melanie Ansley (Aunt) …….

Lucy Ferr, Sin Morningstar. (Half Siblings.)

Alexander Leverett. (Adoptive Brother) (Strained.) …..

Immanuel Ansley. (Adoptive Sibling.)

Sam Coleman. (Adoptive Uncle.)

Micah Coleman. (Adoptive Uncle.)

Friends: None. ……..

Romance: None. …….

Enemies: The Starlings.

Pets:

Danger (Tarantula)

Princess (Skeleton Cat)

Brief Personality: Mikey acts tough. For his entire life he has had to manipulate in order to survive. He can usually get what he wants with little effort. But he is, deeply troubled.. Usually he is incredibly chatty but lately he’s just been.. quiet.. He no longer seems to care about much, he’d rather just sit in the silence.

Brief Backstory:

Michael was born out of a prophecy. He was destined to destroy heaven and the earth. However for the time being he was born to his mother and “Father”..

Mikey had a pretty normal childhood for the most part. He was a good kid, he went to church, he played with his toys and didn’t make much of a fuss. However, as he grew older weird occurrences would happen around Michael.

His mother didn’t seem worried. But everyone else noticed the birds dying around him, the water becoming blood, bad omens seemed to follow the child. And it culminated in Michael’s house burning down with his mother and “Father” inside. He was the only survivor.

His aunt was given custody of him.. He didn’t know it at the time but he was not responsible for the fire. However everyone believed he was. He was forced to repent over and over and over and over to get rid of his “sins”, to get rid of the demons inside of him.

Michael felt hollow.. He felt the judging eyes of everyone on him. No matter how good of a kid he was he felt destined to be evil. It felt like the omens were getting worse and worse as he got older and older.

The church held an intervention for Michael. They told him that he wasn’t good enough, that God was disappointed in him. The demons were still inside him because he let them stay inside. He began to cry and say that wasn’t true and that he wanted to pure he wanted to be good.

The church members took him into the baptistery and forced him under the water, waterboarding him over and over again to try and get him to “repent for his sins” and that the holy water will cleanse him of his omens.

Over and over again he was forced underneath the water, he kept screaming but the water kept filling his lungs, when he finally was able to get some air. He felt this righteous anger fill his entire body, and he attacked the people who had forced him underneath the water.

He attacked the church leaders and in the struggle they gauged out his eyes. And stabbed him. Pushing him deep into the baptism water, as his blood filled the pool it turned a dark black color. And he ascended from the baptism a monster.

Michael killed everyone. The people in the church, his aunt, everyone. Everyone who had hurt him. Everyone who had forced him into bowing before a god who would never forgive him. This “awakened” something inside of him, a power he never knew he had. And he began to crave meat.

He became the monster the church thought he was. And he ran away. And he decided that he would become a god, if a god who watched him get tortured by the heads of his religion then he could easily become one.

He created a cult, Ascensionism. He being the god, and his subjects being his eyes. He saw through them, and when it was finally time they would ascend and become his food. Becoming one with their god.

After many years in the cult however he eventually feels.. empty inside.. He begins to question what the hell he is doing and disbands the cult. He goes on a long journey of soul searching, trying to figure out who he is, what he is, etc. and one could argue he is still on that journey now even tho he is much healthier than he was back then.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Hello beloved readers! Scrolling through my writing tag whenever I want to reference something is, uh...no longer feasible unless it's really recent. Solution? Masterpost! :D (MCYT fics only though, because my YYH stuff is from 5+ years ago and I don't expect I'll be free of this blockman brainrot anytime soon.)

In Progress

The Canary In The Gold Mine - series masterpost }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Fwhimmy }{ When Scott is arrested for theft and left languishing in a Gobland prison cage, he finds a beam of hope in a little yellow bird. Over time, he finds even more in the arms of his canary and their goblin king. }{

Complete

Strawberry Wine - series masterpost }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Husbands }{ There was something about summer on the savanna that Jimmy found nostalgic... Once, a young farmboy fell in love with a vibrant traveler. Years later, a proud sheriff fell in love with a colorful king. Or he would have, if he had ever fallen out of love with him in the first place. }{

Untitled Scarian - Tumblr }{ Hermitcraft S9 }{ Scarian }{ Scar’s elf ears twitched whenever the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, Grian noticed. And he was certainly amused at the moment, perched on Grian’s lap as much as his long limbs would allow, knees pressed into the cushion and hands on Grian’s shoulders, watching a blush bloom across his target’s face. }{

Wildflowers and Roses - Tumblr | AO3 }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Husbands }{ There were so many things Scott loved. He loved silk sheets and pretty clothes and delicious food. He loved his kingdom and his people and his flowers and his llamas. He loved adventure and wit and new experiences. He loved sitting in the warm sun to weave flower crowns on a lazy day. But there was one thing he loved above all else, one thing sweeter and warmer than any other experience he'd ever had. One thing existed that he treasured more greatly than any shiny or rare trinket in his extensive collection. }{

Party Games - Tumblr | AO3 }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Husbands }{ Jimmy goes to the princess party hoping to make an impression on Scott. He succeeds, just maybe not in the way he hoped. }{

Muscle Memory - Tumblr: }{ one }{ two }{ three }{ }{ Plate Up }{ Tango, Jimmy, & Skizz }{ Jimmy has some bad habits developed after years of repetition. Tango and Skizz are determined to break them. }{ *Continuation depends on future PlateUp streams }{

Dream Of The Devil And He Shall Appear - AO3 | Tumblr: }{ one }{ two }{ three }{ four }{ five }{ six }{ }{ Pirates SMP }{ Majorwood }{ When Scott dreams, he dreams of a sea he's never seen and a man who feels like home. }{ *will possibly be resumed or reworked at a future date }{

Untitled Flower Husbands - Tumblr }{ Empires S1 }{ Flower Husbands }{ Jimmy dreams about a tree. }{

Who Are You? Are You Nobody, Too? - Tumblr }{ 3rd Life SMP }{ Flower Husbands }{ Thrown into a strange game with no memories of their lives before, Jimmy and Scott find comfort in a quiet valley and in each other. }{

On Hiatus

We Can Be Just As Close (If I Am Far Away) - series masterpost }{ Hermitcraft S9 and Life Series }{ Scarian }{ By the time Grian fell from the clifftop at the end of 3rd Life, he'd already fallen for Scar. But when it becomes clear that the death games are going to keep happening, he can't stand the thought of being the cause of Scar's death again. And if keeping Scar safe means keeping his distance, he'll do it, no matter how much it hurts both of them. }{

Bare-Faced In Front Of You - AO3 | Tumblr: }{ one }{ two }{ three }{ }{ Hermitcraft }{ Convex }{ There were a thousand Scars, and Cub loved every single one of them. A collection of ConVex snippets written for CubScar Week. }{

A Fool's Errand - AO3 }{ Hermitcraft }{ Convex }{ All his life, Cub has felt like there is something he should be seeking out, and he hopes to find it in a little town on the edge of a dark oak forest. The moment he arrives, he's warned against falling for Scar's scams and sales pitches - and warned that if he wants to court the charismatic elf, he'll have to catch a certain cat and retrieve the key around its neck. }{

Untitled Flower Husbands - Tumblr }{ Life Series }{ Flower Husbands }{ Scott loved the way Jimmy loved. Fiery, passionate, red-hot love. It was beautiful, intoxicating, magical - And magic can always be broken. }{

[rosesradio]

second entry for the @allvalley100 prompt Magic!

"I don't know what kinda nerdy magic math shit you're doing, but I can't do it." a 17-year-old Johnny complained one afternoon in study hall. Nothing like having to work with the guy who not only kicked your ass, but was also really good at math.

Daniel looked at him thoughtfully. "Let me teach you some spells, then."

---

"I swear, it's like you're doing magic when you work through these," a 43-year-old Johnny groaned. He'd rather do anything than be back in school, but he looked around his apartment...he had to provide a better life for Robby.

"Let me teach you some spells, then." Daniel smiled kindly.

[sonita0526]

रोज वैली चिट फंड घोटाला मामले में ईडी ने 3 कंपनियों की संपत्ति अटैच की; एक कंपनी अभिनेता शाहरूख खान से जुड़ी

रोज वैली चिट फंड घोटाला मामले में ईडी ने 3 कंपनियों की संपत्ति अटैच की; एक कंपनी अभिनेता शाहरूख खान से जुड़ी

नई दिल्ली. पश्चिम बंगाल के बहुचर्चित रोज वैली चिट फंड घोटाला मामले में केंद्रीय एजेंसी ईन्फोर्समेंट डाइरेक्टरेट (ईडी) ने तीन कंपनियों के करीब 70 करोड़ रुपए की सपंत्ति अटैच की है। इनमें आईपीएल क्रिकेट टीम के प्रमोटर शाहरूख खान की कंपनी भी जुड़ी है। इन कंपनियों में मल्टीपल रिसोर्ट्स प्रा. लि., कोलकाता स्थित सेंट जेवियर्स कॉलेज और नाइटराइडर्स स्पोर्ट्स प्रा. लि. शामिल हैं।

ईडी ने एक बयान में कहा कि…

[vilaspatelvlogs]

Saradha Scam में बढ़ सकती हैं ममता की मुश्किलें, CBI ने SC में दायर की अवमानना याचिका

Saradha Scam में बढ़ सकती हैं ममता की मुश्किलें, CBI ने SC में दायर की अवमानना याचिका

नई दिल्ली: शारदा चिटफंड घोटाला (Saradha Chit Fund Scam) एक बार फिर पश्चिम बंगाल में राजनीतिक पारा बढ़ा सकता है. शारदा चिटफंड घोटाले में सीबीआई (CBI) ने सुप्रीम कोर्ट में एक अवमानना याचिका दायर की है, इसमें सुप्रीम कोर्ट (Supreme Court) ने कहा ह��� कि पश्चिम बंगाल के मुख्यमंत्री राहत कोष से तारा टीवी के कर्मचारियों को नियमित रूप से 23 महीने तक भुगतान किया गया. तारा टीवी शारदा समूह के हस्से के रूप…

[simons-temple-of-eros]

𝓣he 𝓢cientific 𝓜ethod  || ReaderxStanford Pines Fic

|| Chapter 1 - Terra Incognita ||

(( a/n: consider this the trial phase of this chapter, i’m still not especially happy with the latter half of this chapter and feel like it might be too short. i might end up fixing this up a bit before posting it to my Ao3...

notes for this fic: this series is going to be a bit more personalized than my usual reader x ford fics. they/them and he/him pronouns will be used a bunch, as well as other masc terms and while it won’t really apply for a while, the reader here is AFAB. usually i’d try to keep my reader fics as gender neutral as possible, but since i have to see so many reader fics tailered towards women i’d figured ‘fuck it’, here’s one for my fellow guys/nb guys!)) .｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

You stand before the door of the apartment. It looked more like a large mansion, dark and old and covered in moss, and yet despite all this the enormous building instead filled you with a sense of curiosity.

You weren't sure if you thought of yourself as any sort of special person, as someone who was particularly 'clever' or 'bright', often too distracted by the little pieces of the world and missing the bigger picture, a lone writer in the plastic beaches, publishing stories for nobody.

Yet the invitation that arrived at your door, sealed with a rose like something out of a story book, begged to differ. Addressed to your name, it explained that the sender had read some of your writings about the world, complimenting your writing ability as well as your 'ability to see beyond what your eyes could perceive' which was a compliment you didn't hear everyday but still made you feel appreciated.

Making your way to the small Oregon town was a surreal affair, watching the scenery outside the windows of the buses and cab you had taken morph from the dry browns and oranges of the heat-stricken wastelands to the dark jewel tones and cloudy atmosphere of the woods.

Rereading the curly script of the letter, you considered the possibility that it was all a scam. Or a prank. Some Prince-of-Nigeria-esque scheme to rip-off a local writer and make them think they're going to be invited to some high caliber meeting of great minds only to rip the rug from underneath them and record their reactions for internet cred. It'd be a lot of effort for a cheap laugh, that's for sure. But as some nobody in silicon valley, you figured you had nothing to lose by checking it out.

Once you had stepped out of the cab, you were greeted by the cool, woodsy breeze which was a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of your previous home. Taking in the scent of morning dew and pine needles, you figured you could get used to this.

Then came the moment of truth. Preparing for the possibility of being laughed at and going back to the concrete hellscape you came from, you approached the dark walnut door and, taking a breath to steady your wits, gave the door a good knocking. Not just a knock, a good few gay knocks.

After a few moments, you could hear approaching footsteps from inside and the door swung open to reveal a greying man in a very showman-like suit. The kind of suit you'd expect on a magician type or similar such event, all red and black.

"Hey, you're not part of the IRS, are ya?" He had questioned in lieu of a greeting.

"Nope! The IRS are a tool of the bourgeoisie." You had answered, mostly unfazed by the strange man's question. Because hey, what was some harmless tax evasion in the grand scheme of things?

((Author's Note: I am a good citizen and always do my taxes. Remember to stay in drugs and say no to school, kids!))

"Mm, good enough for me." The man grunted in reply. He then turned towards the inside of the mansion and called out, "Hey Sixer, your nerd friend is here for your nerd sleepover!"

Your curiosity was further piqued as you heard another, less gruff voice call back, "It's not a sleepover, Stan, for the billionth time!"

In just a few moments, you were greeted by the sight of another male. He appeared to be related to the man who opened the door as they shared many similar features. However, this man's hair appeared to be fluffier, sporting a lighter grey stripe across the middle. He also seemed to have a more chiseled chin and rather than wearing a magician like suit, he sported a dark maroon turtleneck paired with some black pants and accenting the look was a long, cream colored coat.

Normally you'd wonder why he was wearing a coat when he was inside, but damn if he didn't pull it off.

"Hello there! You received my letter, I assume? My name is Stanford Pines, and the man you just talked to is my brother, Stanley Pines." He greeted enthusiastically, reaching to shake your hand. You didn't hesitate to give his hand a shy shake as you gave him your own name in turn.

"You must be freezing out there, do come in. I'd like to show you around." Pulling your jacket around your shoulders, you were all too happy to oblige, following the man into the warmth of the strange house. Little did you realize just what you were getting yourself into...

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

When Stanford had first spotted his new research partner, he couldn't help but be surprised by who had arrived. The scientist had been expecting a greying, sort of stuffy academic type. What he hadn't expected was a fairly short, scruffy looking yet simultaneously soft looking androgynous individual waiting at the door.

Not to say that he was put-off by this! If anything, something about your appearance had piqued the man's curiosity. When he had discovered one of your written pieces about an eldritch god lurking within a mirror at a thrift store, he had quickly made himself familiar with the rest of your works, finding a charm in your sardonic yet passionate way of describing things. Yet, having you here, standing before him and fixing him with radiant eyes that he found himself almost getting lost in he knew he would have to get to know you on a much more... personal level.

He shook himself out of these thoughts. He couldn't be thinking this about a colleague! This meeting was supposed to be professional. Silently chastising himself, Stanford busied himself with helping you remove your coat.

"Thank you, Stanford." You had said, unaware of the man's brief internal conflict.

"Just Ford is fine." He had responded, quickly putting said coat in a nearby closet. Soon enough, the tour had began and you followed the older male as he patiently explained the rooms and their purposes.

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

"Over there is the main kitchen and dining room. You're free to help yourself to food if you need anything." He gestured to said rooms, the kitchen and dining room having a sort of antique, cabin feel to it, with a few candles at the table as well as a few empty mugs.

"Or you can be like poindexter here and live on nothing but coffee for days and crash." Came a sarcastic comment from Stan which Ford ignored.

The tour went on for a little longer as the silver haired researcher showed you to different areas in the common area of the mansion. From the living room with a tv and some love seats as well as a record player with various records beside it, to the kitchen and dining hall which seemed like it was equipped to cook many a dish but was evidently pretty empty at the moment.

"Ah yes, my other colleague went out to get some groceries, she'll probably arrive back later." Ford had said in explanation as you checked the almost bare fridge.

"You two nerds would live on chocolate and coffee if I wasn't here to feed you!" Came Stan's jab from another room.

Later on, after showing you where a closet and a bathroom was, you eventually were shown the main research room. The room was warmly lit and had several wooden chairs and soft ones. There were multiple tables around, often covered with books, notes, little curiosities and empty mugs and there were plenty of shelves full of old books with covers of dark reds, browns and jewel tones with gold accents.

"Since this room is a bit far from the living room and dining room, it had the benefit of being quieter, making this a good place to focus on research." He explained, while you shyly marveled at the neat little bits of mystical looking pieces all around the place.

"Looks like you've found a lot of neat stuff." You commented. Ford chuckled in response and spoke,

"Well, they weren't easy to find. Some of them had gotten us in some dangerous situations, like that time with the mothman..." He shook himself. "I suppose we'll have time to tell stories later on, I'll show you your room now."

You two walk outside and you're shown to the room you will be calling your home for the future. On the left side from the front door and a few steps up lead you to the simple yet ornate front door, Stanford handing you some old looking golden keys and a soft expression.

"You'd probably like some time to unpack. Once you've finished you're welcome to join me for a cup of tea- I mean, If you'd be willing to that is!" You can't help a smile at the man's flustered demeanor, not realizing the way the little action only makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply.

"That'd be nice." You reply. The moment seems to go on with you and Ford waiting for each other to make some sort of move before finally the older man gives a rushed farewell and waltzes off and you take your own leave with your things into your new homeplace.

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Meanwhile, back inside, the local genius finds himself with his face in his hands, not having to see a mirror to know he was probably a good few shades of pink.

Despite all his experiences in different fields of academia, this strange effect you seemed to have on him baffled and confused the usually well versed man.

Just the sight of you smiling, the simply expression seeming to make the whole world that much warmer and brighter, was enough to make Ford feel like he needed to protect you from the worst of the world. To hold you close and never let go again.

Great Axolotl, he wasn't going to survive the week.

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

[monicasharmalove]

CBI questions Kolkata top cop, ex-TMC MP in Saradha, Rose Valley scams

Current Affairs:

The CBI has been questioning Kolkata Police Commissioner Rajeev Kumar and former TMC MP Kunal Ghosh by making them sit face to face at the probe agency's office here in connection with the Saradha chit fund and Rose Valley scams, officials.

The marathon questioning of Kumar, that began at 10.30 am, was still on at 9.30 pm when this report was filed.

The questioning by the CBI, being done as per the directions of the Supreme Court, continued for the second day on Sunday.

A two-member CBI team, who are the Investigating Officers in the Saradha and Rose Valley scams, arrived here in the afternoon.

Kumar and Ghosh were grilled in the initial period by a 10-member team of the CBI, the officials said.

The Kolkata Police chief was quizzed for nearly nine hours on Saturday by three senior CBI officers about his alleged role in tampering of crucial evidence in the case, they said.

Kumar had led the special investigation team (SIT) formed by West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee to probe the Saradha scam before the case was handed over to the CBI by the apex court.

Officials in Delhi said the CBI has not acceded to the demand of Kumar to have his questioning session videographed.

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Chapter 6

Waking up was a chore. Your head was pounding from the almost all night party, and you groaned while you pulled your blanket over your head. Who thought it was a good idea to sleep outside? Damn the sun and its infernal brightness. 

Little Jack was splashing around in the water barrel near your tent which woke you up. He was holding a little wooden boat and pretending it was crashing through the make believe waves. 

After you debated with yourself, you decided to move back to your tent. You dragged the bedroll past Jack who just stared, and slowly threw the soft padding into your tent. Someone outside laughed but you couldn’t care less who it was. All you could think about was sleeping off this damn hangover. 

A few hours later you felt vaulgey better and decided to grab some coffee. The sun was halfway through the sky, but it wasn’t like anyone else had noticed the day was creeping by; only half of the camp was conscious. Hosea was eating lunch at the main table. 

You grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at the old campfire. No one had bothered to light it yet and you stared at the ashes. 

“Jesus, YN. You look like hell.” 

Charles stood above you. Looking up was painful and you couldn’t bend your neck for too long. You grunted and motioned to the spot next to you, causing Charles to laugh softly at you. The splitting pain in your head was now just a constant throb that you could try and ignore while the two of you talked.

“I was hoping I could hunt today, but everyone here looks like shit. No offense, but you included.”

“I feel like hell, so none taken.” The thought of being on a moving horse made your stomach turn, so you drank your coffee in peace. “I’m happy hunting with my bow, but I can’t go today. Could you wait until tomorrow?” Charles contemplated, and finally agreed to wait until the next day to ride out. You wanted to get some supplies from Valentines anyways. 

A little while later, John emerged from his shared tent with Abigail and sauntered over. 

“YN! How are you today?” You groaned again as the loud voice rattled around you brain making it hard to think. “I’m heading into town to look at some livestock, y'all need anything?”

“Actually, I’ll join you John. I need some supplies for hunting." You stood and stretched, then dumped the remaining coffee into the old fire. 

The two of you walked over to the horses, and he jumped onto his brown bay and you hesitated. “John, mind if I ride with ya? I’m looking to buy my own horse in town today.” He held his arm out without hesitation and pulled you up. 

The ride in was short and bumpy, and you tried not to vomit all over John. The hangover pain was almost gone by the time you were dropped you off on the main road which was a blessing, and you waved as John rode back to the outskirts to look at the livestock scam he had started cooking. 

When you walked into the general store, a familiar ding met your ears. The shopkeeper smiled and waved you over. “Come, see this new coffee brand we have!” You browsed the wares and picked out what you needed. A few cans of food, some oil to clean your bow, little objects. Nothing that you couldn’t carry back incase the horse was gone. 

While in the shop you treated yourself to a bag of candy as well, thinking you deserved some sweets for that wicked hangover.

After you popped a piece in your mouth you walked into the stables. “Hey, mister! Is that gray mare still available?” The man waved you in and motioned to the stall she was in. You rushed over and she was just as stunning as you had remembered.

Standing tall, the mare bent her nose and nibbled your fingers for a treat. Her coat was soft and shiny under your fingers as you stroked her neck. At full height she was 16.2 hands with her head high above your own. Her grey body gave way to a white tail and mane, and small socks around her hooves.

“For a pretty young thing like you? I can do a price of $9.50.”

Despite the inappropriate look, it was a good price so you paid him and left. She rode beautifully and you were so excited to finally have a horse of your own. “Heyaw!” You kicked her sides and she started galloping out of town and you headed north. 

The landscape changed more mountainous under her light feet. You debated what to call her. Names from your novels ran through your head, some better than others. Greek Gods? Other gunslingers? You finally settled on Eclipse. Something about the mysterious phenomenon called you. She galloped on and on, never faltering as you tried to test her limits. Finally you stopped to rest near a beautiful stream bed and let Eclipse get a drink. You brushed her and hoisted your skirt up to your knees to wade into the cool water for a few moments and ease your mind. 

Over the past few months your life had changed so much. Leaving Blackwater, living with a gang, killing someone, it was all a lot to process. You were smart, resourceful, and brave. Three things your always admired about yourself. Seeing the change and growth you've already made, there was no way you could ever look back at the life you left far behind.

It was late that night when you got back into camp. Your new horse Eclipse made you so happy, and she whinnied appreciatively you finally took her saddle off for the night. She joined the other horses to graze easily.

Heading back towards your tent you ran into Jack again. He eyed the candy you had bought so you shared a few pieces with him happily. He giggled and shyly looked at you. “What are you hiding, Jack?”

“Momma and Pop said you were dancing with Uncle Arthur.”

“We did dance, but don’t worry it didn’t mean anything.” 

He smiled. “My Pa and Ma met when they danced. Are you going to marry Uncle Arthur?” 

You gagged on the candy you had just popped into your mouth, and were completely mortified when Arthur himself walked over to the two of you sitting near the overlook. 

“Jack! Are you bothering that nice lady?”

“No, Uncle Arthur. Just eating candy.” He smiled at you coyly, and ran off when Arthur started chasing him. Arthur came back to plop down next to you in front of the log. 

“Candy?” you offered. He reached in and pulled out a piece. “I’m a sucker for candy, can’t ever say no.”

“Really?” he looked at you, “I never took you for having a sweet tooth.”

You laughed and pulled the bag back to yourself. “I went into town today with John. Got that mare I’ve had my eye on.”

Arthur looked back at the group of animals and you pointed out Eclipse. He nodded approvingly. "I know you said you'd go, but no one was up for much of anything this morning. Nearly showed John my whole breakfast again after that bumpy ride into town."

"'S no bother. Glad you got it worked out. I, uh, didn't get up for a long while this morning. Damn whiskey nearly killed me. Although ridin’ anywhere with Marston will usually end with the same result." 

You wrinkled your nose at the mention of the drink. "Whiskey always makes me sick. Can't stand it at all." 

He chuckled softly, "Can't be a real outlaw until you have at least one awful whiskey night, YN." 

"Maybe sometime. Takes awhile to get over a smell like that though…" 

Unknowingly your hand fluttered to your ribs, a phantom ache from where your father liked to land his drunk fists. It had been months since his last episode and all the bruises had long since faded. But the memory still lingered and you thought it always would. 

Arthur turned to face you, then suggested you move somewhere away from the main camp. You settled on your favorite stop to look out to the valley as the moon climbed up the sky, and sat down on a log.

“YN...why you still here?” he said it cautiously, like you would bolt at any moment. It struck you wrong and you stood to leave feeling this was going badly, but he put his hands up and continued. “Not like, here here, but...you coulda gone back to Blackwater after your side healed from the bullet. What’s kept you from that?”

Finally understanding, you sat back down and put your head in the palm of your hand to think. 

“I...I’m not sure. I guess I could have gone off on my own, not that I woulda lasted long,” you laughed shortly, “but I love this...family you have here. Sometimes I feel like a voyeur, wishing to be more than just halfway accepted.” The next part felt hard to admit, but you rushed forward anyways.  

“My home was nothing like this. In fact it was the opposite. All I ever wanted was to be on the other side of that little window at home, looking in and dreaming what could be instead of lying awake in the dark in fear of it. I would give anything to unknow what that version of family felt like. To keep walking and let that moment of life just pass me by.” Arthur watched you with an inscrutable expression. 

“I like to see the good in folks, Mr. Morgan. I try real hard to believe that people are born good, and hold that in their heart. Not that I’m naive about life, sure. I know I'm living with a group of outlaws. Michah laughed when I said something similar, but ain’t it important to believe in something? To truly believe?” 

“Miss Moore, you almost sound like Dutch. 'Course we ain't all good, but I think you are gonna get along here just fine if you keep believin’ like that,” his face was hard to read, but Arthur had a flush in his cheeks that you knew wasn’t from a drink. 

The two of you moved closer, your confession hanging heavy in the air about the goodness in men’s hearts. 

Arthur dipped his head and you angled your chin up to his, all the while feeling your heart beat like it was about to come right out of your chest. His hand moved to cover yours, and in that heated moment Pearson chose to beat a metal dish with his wooden spoon. 

“Food’s ready! Come grab it while it’s hot!” 

“Jesus!” The word burst from your lips. Pearson had popped the bubble of you and Arthur, and the moment was gone. Your eyes held the gaze you had been sharing, and a small half smile formed on your lips. Arthur squeezed your hand in his then rose without a word and walked off. 

It took a few minutes to compose yourself but not long after you followed, hungry for the stew cooking away. Abigail was near and she called you to join her at a table.  

“How did John’s livestock scam go today? He was kind enough to bring me into town but I never heard how it ended.”

She stirred the soup around before answering. “I’m not too sure. He won’t talk to me about such goings. I’m not honestly sure if I want to know.” 

“I’m sure it’s for some silly reason like keeping you safe, Abigail. He’s a good man.”

Abigail sighed heavily, watching Jack run in the background of the camp. “For all our sakes, YN, I hope you’re right.” 

Much later in your tent you finished one of the books you had found in town. A silly little novel, but in the glow of the lamplight the romantic ending made you feel safe and warm. As you lay down you ran your fingers over the cover that was illustrated with a rose. 

“YN? You still up?” The voice was no more than a raised whisper coming from outside the flap. You sat up and warily moved towards the entrance. 

“Arthur? That you?” Pulling back the tent flap slowly revealed the tall man crouching to meet you. “What can I do for you?”

“I just...uh...didn’t want you to think I was tryin’ to take advantage of anything earlier.” Sheepishly he pulled on his coat, glancing around to make sure no one saw you two meeting this late. He may not have to fight for his moral standing in this camp but you sure did. 

Slowly, you responded, watching his face the whole time. “Nothing truly happened, Arthur. Just talkin’. Caught up in the, uh, moment was all.” 

“‘Spose that’s so. You going hunting with Charles tomorrow then?” You nodded back at him. “I want to see how Eclipse runs out on the big fields. And I wanna shoot that bow again.” 

“Well, you be careful then, you hear? Don’t want to be going on any big rescue missions.” 

Smiling back, you felt your chest swell a bit at the kind words. “I’ll try then, not to be kidnapped or taken off. I’m sure Charles will be a fine hunting partner. Plus I can fight real good if I need too, mean left hook no one sees coming.” 

Arthur chuckled. “Alright. Night then, YN. See you in a few days.” He tipped his hat and jaunted back towards the center of camp, leaving you to drop the flap and head to your bedroll. 

“Mr. Arthur Morgan...huh…” You traced the rose on the novel again, this time picturing that it was a handsome face. Giggling, you sat up and blew out the sole flame of the lantern, plunging the tent into darkness to get some rest. 

The next morning Charles was waiting for you by the horses. You had dressed in pants for one of the first times in your life and loved it. The flexibility alone was enticing enough to make you want to throw your dresses and skirts off the overlook. You chose dark jeans, a blue shirt, and brown boots and satchel. The red bandana you picked up yesterday was tied around your neck to protect from dirt or lawmen's eyes, depending on the situation. 

While walking over you finished tucking in your shirt and attaching everything in its correct place, watching Chalres pat Eclipse and feed her a treat. He didn't say much in the early hour except a wave while you loaded up your horse. 

“Ready?” You nodded, and the two of you kicked off. 

The plan was to hunt for three days. It meant a lot of riding and shooting and you couldn’t wait to build up the muscles in your shoulders, giving you better control over your shot. Focusing on the rocky path took a lot of focus, so the first few hours of your ride were quiet. Every hour the horses would get a chance to rest and eat and you walked to stretch your legs. 

Heading up north was all new territory for you. Charles seemed comfortable enough, and was happy to discuss the local fauna. 

“This one here? Red Cedar tree, can grow to be massive and every part of it is usable. The needles can make tea to help many sicknesses, and Native Americans use the trunks to make canoes as the wood never rots.” 

You rubbed the needles in between your fingers, wondering how the tea tasted. Charles went on to talk about other traditions of his people and how they made use of everything around them.

Finally you arrived where Charles wanted to camp. The ground was dry and free of rocks were you set up your tent, far from the view of anyone passing through. 

Night passed quickly and you rose early to begin hunting. Stalking a group of deer, you brought down two after a long chase. Eclipse ran swiftly over the hills and Charles commented on how well she was doing, listening well to your commands. His own horse Tamia was a bit smaller, but just as quick. 

A lone stag caught your attention and you veered left to focus and take aim. The bow was getting heavy in your outstretched arm and your anchor point of the corner of your mouth was a bit wobbly, but he soon joined the other deer you were bringing back to camp. Finally satisfied you both worked your way through the woods back to your site. 

Sitting around the fire that night, Charles taught you how to smoke meat and make it last. It was much better to store it versus try to eat it all right away in this life of constantly running and moving around. 

The next day was much of the same. Hunt, rest, smoke meat, hunt some more. Nothing truly exciting happened until the third morning as you packed up camp. 

“There’s lots of strange gangs around this country. I’m not sure gang is the right word, but I’m not sure what to call them. Down south is the Lemoyne Raiders, east is the Murphys, then of course the O’Driscolls and…well us I guess. Van der Linde gang.” Charles was pouring over a map of the area, and drew large circles where he warned of other groups. “I think there’s more but not as large as us.” 

“Lotta folks to look out for, then. I’ve never heard of most of them to be honest, but you missed the Skinner Brothers out near Blackwater,” you took his pencil and drew a circle around the area they used to terrorize. “Took a lot of good folks. Burned farms. Finally some group came in and cleared them out but it was bad a few years back.” 

“Heard of them, but never knew where they started. Huh,” he observed the circles you had drawn, then continued on. “This is where we’ll stop for supplies on the way back and to sell pelts. Long ride from Amarino country down to Valentine.”  

Agreeing on where to stop was easy, but getting there was another problem. A bridge was out along the way which added a good hour to your journey. Both of you were cranky and tired by the time you rolled into Valentine, quickly selling the pelts and leftover meat that was of no use to the gang. 

“Alright Charles, I’m ready to head home,” you paused and looked over. “How fast you think Tamia can run? Faster than Eclipse?” 

His eyebrows raised. “You challenging me to a race, YN?” “Damn straight,” you replied confidently, and dug your heels into Eclipse causing her to sprint off. 

Pealing laughter followed the two of you as the town gave way to the green muddy fields, and eventually the wooded aread of Horseshoe Overlook. Nothing felt better than the rushing wind in your hair and the sun warming your face. You debated throwing your arms out wide but didn’t want to look silly. 

Both horses were magnificent, and you admitted defeat when Tamia pulled ahead at the last moment. 

Eclipse huffed as you swung yourself down and nudged your arm playfully. She was ready to relax and eat with the other horses, so you took your hunting spoils and patted her affectionately. 

Walking over with the deer you met Pearson who was ecstatic. “Look at this folks, a real feast ready soon!” He eagerly took the meat from you and Charles and shooed you away so he could begin to prepare it. 

“Well done, YN. I would hunt with you again anytime,” Charles clapped your shoulder and walked off towards his tent. 

All you wanted to do was bathe and sleep so you started towards the river. 

“YN! Need some company?” Mary-Beth came running up besides you, not so secretly hiding from Ms. Grimshaw. “Sure, let’s get you out of here before she notices,” and the pair of you took off running down to the river. 

Tily and Karen were doing the wash when you arrive, and they all greeted you cheerily upon returning from the hunt. 

“How did you two get on then? Hunt anything more excitin’ than deer?” Karen play snarled and lunged at you, making the group laugh. “Charles is as stiff as a board around women Karen and you know it,” Tilly countered. 

“Oh, I’m not -” Mary-Beth cut you off before you could finish. “Charles! No, I saw YN getting cozy with Arthur the other night when they thought no one was lookin’.” You playfully hit Mary-Beth’s arm in response and the whole group was set off. 

“First ya’ll dancing, then hiding on the lookout, whatchu really come to our gang for anyways!” Karen laughed while she said it, but you did fear they all thought of you as just a hopeless romantic. 

“There is more than just goin’ after men in this life, and I intend to explore those avenues first. Just so happy to be free. And sides ain’t he got a girl?” you replied while washing your arms. 

The other moaned. “Ugh. Mary Linton. She beckons, and he calls. Been years since he last saw her but still thinks of her I’m sure. It’s hard finding someone in this life that agrees with it, that’s why she’s been gone all this time. Her daddy threw a fit at who Arthur was,” Tilly informed you. 

“I heard he went and rescued Michah from some town east called Strawberry,” you tried to change the subject. 

Karen roller her eyes. “Damn fools shot up the whole town and can probably never go back.”

“I know Strawberry. Small and backwards place. Used to think I couldn't go when I was young on account of me being allergic to the fruit.” the girls laughed at your answer, and as you slowly felt cleaner. 

Eventually the chores were done so you left the river with the group. They carried the baskets up on their hips and you watched the colors dance in the wind. It was a sight to see the clothes hung in trees to dry out for camp. 

Arthur came into camp that night in a blaze, not able to focus on anything. Something about a letter and going into Valentine, but no one could tell. Hosea had a knowing smile but refused to spill information to any gossips in camp, and Arthur left in a hurry once again. 

Laying on your side in your bedroll, you tried to finish the next chapter in your book but you eyes kept sliding shut and your head bobbed around. Finally you admitted defeat and stood up to stretch and blow the lantern out, but someone was muttering around your tent. 

“H-hello?” you whispered cautiously, not sure who was out there. A loud bang and a stream of curses alerted you that it was Arthur back from his night ride. Muttering around, you caught wind of a word that made your silly jealous heart run cold. 

“Mary.”

[vicky-nanjappa]

Rose Valley scam: 9 influential TMC leaders under CBI scanner

Rose Valley scam: 9 influential TMC leaders under CBI scanner

Kolkata, Jan 7: The worries for the Trinamool Congress is far from over in the Rose Valley scam. The CBI has on its radar at least nine more very influential members of the TMC who will be questioned soon and might be arrested if needed, CBI officials say.

A list of 11 persons from the TMC had been prepared by the CBI. It is said that these persons had allegedly helped key accused in the scam,…

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

Lilith’s Winter Travelogue: New Perfume Blends

In winter of 2017, we used our savings, blew our collective airline miles, and maxed out our credit cards on a trip to Paris, Salzburg, and Berlin so that we could attend a Krampuslauf, visit the Christmas markets, and help Lilith practice her French in realtime. I’m pretty sure that we’ll be paying off that trip for the next decade, but it’s all worth it. We travel with our daughter Lilith as much as we can; we take her to conventions and business trips and trade shows, we take her on road trips and weekenders, we have taken her to as many cities, states, and countries as we could manage.

I want her to meet people who are not like her. I want her to hear voices that are not like her own. I want her to see history alive and vibrant surrounding her. I want her to see, hear, touch, and understand. I think she could stop here and do miracles. The following collection is a perfume scrapbook of these warm family memories, which we set aside to share during the coldest winter months. Lilith and Brian (our Doc Constantine!) have contributed scents and stories to this series. You can find Ted’s scrapbook of the trip there, too!

++ LILITH’S WINTER TRAVELOGUE

A BALMY 26 DEGREES

These three are far braver than I am. It was snowing buckets and the wind was whipping across the Fuschlsee, but these maniacs still went into the outdoor hot tub.

A wintry spa scent: green tea, aloe, eucalyptus, icy lemon, and French sage.

ARC DE TRIOMPHE CARROUSEL

Once the site of a guillotine that rolled the heads of thirty-five people during the Terror, now the site of a triumphal arch dedicated to Napoleon’s military victories of 1805.

Also: my family is ridiculous.

A sharpened blade, a pinch of snuff, a blast of gunpowder, and a pop of strawberry bubblegum.

AT THE KRAMPUSLAUF

I know I’ve talked about Lilith’s experiences with Krampus for years, so I hesitate to reiterate them here. She loves Krampus. Her love for Krampus easily equals her love for Santa, so in 2017, we took her to the Gnigl Krampuslauf in Salzburg (which we memorialized in our 12 Lashes From Krampus and Perchtenläufe series). She was enraptured. She was charmed by the wee little kid Krampuses, the Perchten, the switches, and the chains. She loved the snow and icicles, the roadside cider vendors and the bitterly cold air. I love this photo; it really seems to encapsulate her joy that night: the sparkle in her eyes and her bursts of laughter.

Ice, leather, and snow warmed by a steaming stein of children’s glühwein.

BEARS OF BERLIN

Even in utero, Lilith had a full head of hair. She looked like a Monchhichi when she was born, and from the moment I first saw her, I called her Bear. She’s my Baby Bear, Bunnybear, Bearington, Beanie Bear. I made up bear bedtime stories for her – we still tell each other bear jokes all the time. Every time I see a bear video or meme, I save it for her, my little Princess Bear.

While we were in Berlin, we made a point of taking photos with as many Buddy Bears as possible. They’re intended to symbolize peace, tolerance, and understanding between religions, nations, and cultures worldwide, and Lilith knows how important that is – especially now.

Sweet buttered rum, brown musk, wildflower honey, tonka bean, labdanum, and clove.

BEWARE: PICKPOCKETS!

Brian: “Lilith is always up for staging a hammy, fun photo. Here, I’ve found a Distracted American Child at Weihnachtsmarkt am Alexanderplatz and am very subtly and skillfully picking her pocket.”

Lilith: “We saw a sign on the ground that said Pickpockets! – and me and Unkie decided to pose like what the picture looked like. He let me pickpocket him for real after we took the picture and he let me keep the money.”

Neon pink grapefruit, lemon peel, petitgrain, and peppermint, all crunchy with sugar crystals.

BYE, AUSTRIA!

Lilith: “Nooooo! I don’t want to leave Salzburg!!!! I loved how it snowed, and I loved the food. I piled up on bread, mostly, but the bread was really good. And honeycomb. And bacon and sausage and eggs. I loved the outdoor hot tub thingymajigger. Being in a spa when it’s so cold outside is fun. I love the Christmas markets and I got unicorn and bat stuffy heat packs which is so cool.”

Brian: “I agree with Lilith’s sentiment on this. All the cities we visited were great, but Salzburg was the most charming. I loved the Christmas markets in Berlin, but Salzburg was… – quainter? I loved the gruff and distant replies we got to questions we posed to locals. I LOVED THE KRAMPUSLAUF. You can’t beat a Krampuslauf. Plus, I got a fancy hat. A legit fancy Tyrolean hat. I love that hat.”

This scent? Sachertorte.

C’EST ICI L’EMPIRE DE LA MORT

Our trip to the Catacombs was bittersweet. Lilith was touched by the beauty and poignancy of the experience, but also horrified by the stories of people getting lost underground.

Lilith surrounded by the ghosts of six million Parisians: damp black moss, grey sandalwood chips of bone, and winding sheets of balsam, ambergris, nagarmotha, and frankincense.

CATHEDRALE NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS

Lilith meets the Gargoyles of Paris: stone and ancient incense, beeswax and lavender smoke. 

CREPE AUX FRAISES

Lilith’s first genuine Parisian crêpe!

Strawberries, whipped cream, confectioners sugar, vanilla bean, and orange zest.

DIE JUNGFRAU

Brian: “She’s my Mini Me.”

Lilith: “This was me and Unkie posing for a picture with a play thing going on in the background at the ice rink in Alexanderplatz. I didn’t understand it because it was all happening in German, but it was fun!! I love my Unkie so much. He’s like my older twin. We have the same birthday and we are both year of the Rat. Mom is a stinky ol’ Tiger. Anyway, I just love him so much.”

Virgo’s sacred lavender and mosses with thyme, chamomile, lemon balm, and fig.

ELLE EST HEUREUSE

It was pouring rain and bitterly cold, but this smile kept me warm.

Wrought iron lattice and sparkling amber lights.

FIRST MORNING IN PARIS

We were exhausted, hungry, and batty from travel, but Lilith made herself right at home. She’s a born traveler, and takes just about everything that happens on a trip in stride; she’s as comfortable in a hotel, hostel, or airport floor as she is at home. Just before dawn on our first morning in Paris, I tried to talk Lilith into putting on a coat and watching the sun rise with me, but she’s didn’t bite.

Burgundy oudh and crushed velvet musk with a misting of lavender.

GALERIE DES GLACES

Lilith in the Hall of Mirrors: marble and gilded bronze, Venetian mirrors and a drop of poison.

GORDIAN HAIRMOP

Brian: “It’s something we always do when we’re on a trip, ever since she was really little. She complains constantly about how Beth brushes her hair, and I honestly enjoy the challenge of brushing her mop. It’s like that knot Alexander had to undo, except on my niece’s head, and I don’t have the option to cut it. Plus, her hair looks really nice when it’s done right.”

Lilith: “Every time we’re on a trip together, Unkie brushes my hair for me. I hate brushing my hair. Also cuz mom says I don’t do it thoroughly and I miss parts in the middle. I think there are pictures of him brushing my hair in every city we’ve ever been together. He brushes my hair way better than mom does.”

A warm scent, mahogany-dark: spiced teakwood, coffee bean, bourbon vetiver, styrax, tobacco, and oakmoss.

HELLO, SALZBURG!

Inspired by the deep purple hues of the night we arrived in Austria: icy air, plum musk, and blackberry with a beam of amber light.

HOHENSALZBURG FORTRESS

An absolutely stunning view of the Baroque historical district from high atop the Festungsberg.

A shiver of iced chocolate and white amber.

LA BASILIQUE DU SACRE COEUR DE MONTMARTE

Perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament has been continuing uninterrupted since 1885, and I wanted Lilith to see the monstrance where the Blessed Sacrament is held.

An incense for the Maid of Orléans: red rose beads, frankincense, lily of the valley, iris petals, red labdanum, and steel.

LA JOCONDE

There is nothing mysterious or enigmatic about my kiddo’s smile. Her joy, laughter, and good cheer radiate delight and are impossible to eclipse, even when she’s jetlagged and exhausted.

Bright Italian bergamot, pink grapefruit, sweet California sage, and glittery white musk.

LE CARROUSEL DE MONTMARTRE 

Spinning merrily at the foot of Sacré-Cœur, this is one of twenty permanent carousels scattered around Paris. Just down the road, Lilith watched street hustlers play Three-Card Monte and ply the old gold ring scam.

A swirl of color against a rainy backdrop: golden amber and blackberry oudh with pineapple, tobacco absolute, cinnamon leaf, bay, sweet vetiver, and red apple pulp.

LILITH DE MILO

A lesser-known work of art in vibrant 21st century polychrome: vanilla cream, coconut, fossilized amber, and white sandalwood.

LILITH’S FIRST ICICLE

The only icicles we get at home happen when we have a fridge malfunction.

Plucked from the walls of Hohensalzburg Fortress: a glassy frozen snowdrop with whipped cream and glacial musk.

MOMMY’S LITTLE M16 AGENT

Lilith learning the art of spycraft at Deutsches Spionagemuseum.

A pre-teen superspy’s secret identity: white pear, apple pulp, golden musk, and fossilized amber.

MORNING AT FUSCHLEE

Salzburg is so goddamn beautiful.

Chilled white tea, freesia, and bergamot blanketing skeletal branches. Winter wind brushing across still waters.

NEPTUNBRUNNEN

Brian: “No one else would come out onto the rink. It was just Lilith and me skating, and Beth and Ted were trying to get pictures. I was trying to teach Lilith to skate while dodging penguins and other tourists. There’s a pretty funny photo of Lilith falling and me lunging to catch her, and the funny part is that it’s angled in a way that almost looks like I’m pushing her down. We skated together a ton that night, and she insisted that we go back again the next night.”

Lilith: “I’ve ice skated before when I was littler with a thingy, but this is the first time I really learned how to ice skate. Unkie helped me when I wasn’t using the penguin and he skated me with a lot and helped me learn how to do it. I fell down a lot, but that’s fine.”

Sugared chestnut and powidltascherl.

OU SONT LES JOUETS S’IL VOUS PLAIT

Lilith’s French teacher is a lovely, kind, radiant human being, and always so generous with her time. Before Lilith left for Paris, she helped Lilith put together a cheat sheet of phrases that Lil knew she’d need for the trip.

Où sont les jouets, s’il vous plaît? French vanilla, strawberries, and raspberries.

OVERLOOKING THE GARDEN

While we were at Versailles, there was a bomb threat on the premises, and we were unable to see the garden due to the evacuation. It’s difficult to convey how challenging and heartbreaking it has been to explain things like this to Lilith, from shooter drills at school to bomb threats in palaces. We live in difficult times.

A perfume of hope for a brighter tomorrow: sun-dappled amber, yesterday’s rain, and fresh-cut grass.

PANTHEON!

All right, so we only saw the Panthéon for a moment because Lilith wanted to hurry the hell up and get some crêpes, but I can’t with this smile. It’s THE BEST.

An incense for Sainte Geneviève, patroness of Paris: iris root, frankincense, and violet leaf.

PERSPECTIVE

Lilith’s guide at the Louvre was attempting to explain the difference in perspective between Medieval and Renaissance art by utilizing paintings of the Nativity and the Adoration of the Shepherds from both periods, and it fell a little flat when he assumed that she knew what the paintings depicted and she hadn’t a clue beyond the fact that they were paintings of a lady holding some baby.

Oops? Sorry, mom!

The scent of failing to pass on a Catholic education to the next generation: spilled sacramental wine, a splatter of vermillion paint, Bible leather, and a puzzled cherry chypre.

POTSDAMER PLATZ TOBOGGAN

Brian: “Now this shit was fun. When we arrived in Berlin, we stopped by the Potsdamer Platz market for a few minutes on our way to the hotel, but we didn’t stay for long because we were all exhausted. We check into the hotel, and I open the curtains in my room and Lilith and I see the lights of the market… and this ride, this alpine slide, that we must have walked right by in the dark. Lilith and I knew we had to do it first thing in the morning.”

Lilith: “There was a humongous slidey thing where you sit in a pool thingamajiggy and slide down it. And you have to carry your pool thing up the stairs. Ok, so DAD had to drag it back up the stairs for me. Anyway, I went on it a bunch with my Unkie and my dad, and mostly mom took photos. AS USUAL. This was one of my favorite things in Berlin!”

A tube of black rubber sliding wildly down a whoosh of white musk and white oudh.

SCHEITERHAUFEN VOM BOSKOP APFEL

Okay, this isn’t a photo of Lilith, but it IS a photo of a dessert I had on the first night in Salzburg. It was delicious and amazing and perfect, and it gets its own scent.

Baked apples in cinnamon cream, with a blueberry and raspberry garnish.

SNOW BEAR

Lilith put on my boots to run out into the snow this morning in her pajamas. Ich wünsche dir einen guten morgen!

Pink cotton candy snow, tuberose, plumeria, melon blossom, green tea, lavender, and a shiver of white musk.

SNOW OF THE GRAVESTONES AT PETERSFRIEDHOF

Lilith at Petersfriedhof, the oldest cemetery in Salzburg. As the bells of Stift Sankt Peter tolled around us, we wandered through the graves and the catacombs that date back to Late Antiquity.

Benedictine incense drifting on a frost-chilled December breeze.

SNOWFLAKE-SHAPED SNOWFLAKES

We’re such ridiculous LA rubes. We were standing outside our hotel laughing, oohing and ahhhing, and taking photos of snowflake-shaped snowflakes, when an Austrian fellow walks up to us and says, “Snow.” I told him that we’re from Los Angeles, so snow is super exotic to us.

He nodded and walked away.

The awe and wonder of a couple of Angelinos marveling at the snowy snowness of the snowflakiest of snowflakes: golden amber, California sage, white tea, and sunny Matilija poppy speckled with snow.

SQUELETTE ET FANTOME

My two favorite spectres, haunting the apartments of Paris: white musk, graceful lavender, blackcurrant, teakwood, and cacao.

SWING CAROUSEL

Brian: “I’m not afraid of heights, but I am reasonably afraid of landing, and I have what I feel is a legitimate concern about rickety old carnival rides. I kinda hate carnival rides, but I’ll do it for Lilith.”

Lilith: “Mom says this ride is called a Swing Carousel, but she also calls it a Barf Ride. She wouldn’t go on it, but my dad and my Unkie did. We went on it, and it’s pretty much where you’re sitting in a flying seat. When we were stopped, I couldn’t reach the ground with my feet. I love this ride. The swing is kinda like one of those baby things you have at the park, with the bar for the babies. It’s like those swings, but crazy and way up high. We ate cheesy hot dogs and got hot chocolate right next to the ride, too.”

Bright orange peel and osmanthus with polished cedar, rings of burnished amber, sweet incense, and gingerbread.

THE HOHENZOLLERN CRYPT

Beneath the Berlin Cathedral lies the Hohenzollern family crypt. It is the final resting place of many of those who shaped the history of Berlin, and is one of the most important dynastic burial sites in Europe, with roots reaching back through centuries.

The memory of an 18th-century perfume from the royal houses of the Holy Roman Empire drifting through marble-white walls: white bergamot, clementine, lime peel, grapefruit, blood orange, neroli, lavender, thyme, and tobacco.

THE UMBRELLA INCIDENT

Travel brings educational experiences that you just can’t predict. We visited the German Spy Museum in Berlin on a whim, and Lilith learned all about the history of espionage, data encryption, cryptography, and cypher machines, poisons and truth serums, and the strange and clever artifacts of Cold War spycraft. For me, the most interesting part was the Stasi’s collection of scent samples of German dissidents. For Lilith, the best part of the museum was dodging beams in the laserparcours, full Mission Impossible-style.

Here, Lilith is inspecting the poisons exhibit after watching a reel about the Bulgarian umbrella.

Leather shoe phones, the gleaming metal of a M-125-3 Fialka cipher machine, a femme fatale’s heady, dark perfume, and a breath of castor bean accord.

THUTMOSE’S NEFERTITI

While we were at the Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, I desperately wanted to see the Nefertiti bust and share the moment with Lilith. There’s a story behind why the bust is so important to me, but that’s for another time. Suffice to say, I was overwhelmed with awe and joy, and a kind docent told me that we could take a photograph from the doorway as long as we didn’t use flash. This blurry mess is my best attempt!

Myrrh steeped with cardamom, cinnamon, and sweet wine, streaked with lines of labdanum kohl, and gilded with crushed ambrette seed, a copper oxide musk, and accords of lime spar and iron oxide.

TRAVEL BUDDIES

Brian: “Here, we’re en route to Frankfurt Flughafen and then off to Berlin. It’s always fun to travel with Lilith. We’ve been on a lot of trips together, going all the way back to her first trip out of LA when she was 1. We went to New Orleans that time. We’ve traveled for work and we’ve traveled for fun, and everything is a little bit more interesting when I’m with this kid.”

Lilith: “I remember being in a t-shirt in the freezing cold here because I took my jacket off in the airport because it was so hot. I love travelling with my Unkie.”

A reinvigorating travel survival oil containing essential oils of frankincense, lemon, eucalyptus, peppermint and rosemary. Leave it to the Virgos to have a practical oil here.

UBI BENE, IBI PATRIA

Lilith once told me that home is wherever her loved ones are. My sweet girl, may you always be surrounded by those who love and support you.

White musk and lavender, frankincense and amber incense, sugar cookies, rose petals, and Florida Water.

VIRGO SNOWBALL

Brian: “Our first morning in Salzburg, I wake up to the sound of something thudding against the window. I look outside, and Lilith is out in the snow throwing snowballs at our door. So, I put on all my snow gear – mittens, hat, boots, overcoat, the whole pile of stuff – as fast as I can, and I go outside and I realize this kid is in her just in her long johns and her mom’s snow boots, standing in the snow laughing. Beth comes out yelling for her to put her snow clothes on and to get out of Beth’s boots because she was getting snow in them. She gets changed, and we run around snowball fighting.

“There’s another story – an inside joke – that if my feet get cold wherever we are, we have to go home. But I’ll save that for another time.”

Lilith: “You can’t tell in the picture, but I’m in my jammies here under my coat and stuff. Me and Unkie had a snowball fight. We tried to build a snowman, but it very much failed. Unkie got me a lot with the snow, but I got him back!”

A scent the color of the sun rising over Lake Fuschl: a joyful lemon ginger cologne with a touch of bay leaf and white tea.

WEIHNACHTSMARKTE

The first Christmas market that we visited in Berlin was at Potsdamer Platz. We were completely wiped from the day of travel from Salzburg, but we were stubbornly determined to at least step into the market before collapsing into bed.

The scent of brightly frosted lebkuchen, warm mutzenmandeln, and chocolate-drizzled, marzipan filled schneeballen.

YULETIDE AT HEATHROW

Honestly, there are a lot of smells in any given airport that I probably shouldn’t translate into a perfume, but this particular scent was inspired by this radiant ribbon tree at Heathrow and the joyful little girl standing in front of it.

Sparks of snow-white musk dotted with shining bulbs of blackcurrant, plum, and lavender.

ZONKED IN PARIS

Even the most intrepid adventurers get sleepy.

Coffee, coffee, and more coffee for the grownups, and vanilla ice cream to en’sugar the kiddo out from her stupor.

[aghogquick-wra]

A Rose’s Rage

The moon was as high as it would be in the sky, hidden away by wispy clouds and the smog of Orgrimmar. The only light that illuminated the streets was from the torches and dwindling braziers lining the sides of the road. This night was perfect for Quick’s idea. An idea that had been burning in the back of his mind like a bonfire since a unfortunate night ten years past. The amount of guards has even slimmed, thanks to the war taking place and less of a need for stopping petty crimes and more of a need on the front lines.  It took a week to find the person he was looking for. Once the company he had worked for had dissolved, mostly thanks to his involvement in the death of all of the higher placed officers of the company as well as the owner, the company’s head of security was quite elusive. Thought once Quick did find the man, he was easily able to piece together his routine. Scam or pick pocket a few people between the Tail and the Valley of Strength, head  to the Brawler’s Guild to spend his ill-earned coin and then fight for some more spending money, then drunkenly stumble to his home. For someone who had done dirty deeds his entire life, and been in the shadiest places imaginable, it seemed Quick’s rival has become lax in the past few days. He marched down the street with a mug in hand, shouting to nobody about his victory over some other orc. He hadn’t even seen Quick, garbed completely in black clothes and hiding away in a small inlet in the rock wall.  Quick’s heart slammed in his chest, harder than he had ever felt in beat in his life. Beneath his mask he took in one heavy breath to try to calm his nerves. Four more steps. His mind flashed to the image of the man before him holding a knife to Maji’s gullet. Three more steps. The image of a rose being burned in a fire seared into his mind for some reason. Two more steps. The shouts and cries all echoed in his ears. One more step. Suddenly Quick’s mind was back to a different time. He was younger, he was bloodthirsty. Moz and Quick, the unstoppable mercenaries, ready to take on the world. His mind recalled the first night he had ever met the person who was his world. In Stranglethorn they were resting at one of the bridges, charging any travelling merchants or civilians a fee to pass, and roughing up those who wouldn’t pay. Suddenly he was baffled, a woman walking down the road who looked exactly like Moz, the girl he had known his entire life. She was crying. He hadn’t even known her, but the way she sobbed sent him into a fit of anger, lashing out at Moz to fix the problem. He had never been as angry in his entire life, until now.  He stepped from the small hideaway he was tucked him, pistol extended out right at the other orc. He didn’t fire immediately, even though he knew he should have. He waited to see the orc realize, turn, look at the barrel then to him. He waited to here that first begging word of mercy before pulling the trigger. The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils, the ringing of the shot echoing in the small ravine filled his ears, but all he saw was red. The red blood splattering the air before him. He had to make sure. He drew a knife, standing over the already lifeless body of his enemy and lifting him by the collar of his shirt. One slice. There was no recovering from that. Now all he had to do was escape the guards that were rushing towards the sound, though this city was his stomping ground, and that was never something difficult for him. Ten years of rage. Ten years of seething hatred over in a second. It wasn’t enough. Though he knew it wouldn’t be. But what else was he to do in times likes these?

[superspunarticle]

Web3, a Decentralized internet, will evolve, but must first pass through a phase of disillusionment

Some helpful tips on Content & Video Marketing.

Source: De Tijd, Roland Legrand, Translated

Anthropologist and futurist of the digital world Brian Solis is optimistic about attempts to reform the web, make it more decentralised and give users more power. He warns, however, that this so-called web3 must first pass through a ‘valley of disillusionment’.

The web is now ready for a third version, web3, a movement that aims to decentralise the internet and give users more control over their data and possessions. The blockchain plays an important role in this, the technology that keeps track of property and transactions in a digital register.

It is a response to Web 2.0, the web of social media and the large internet companies that collect and control vast amounts of data about their users. When it emerged, the promise was that everyone could express themselves on the web. Solis was decidedly positive then, but that assessment has changed. I believed that Web 2.0 would democratise information and give everyone a voice, says anthropologist and futurist Brian Solis, who is Global Innovation Evangelist at US software company Salesforce.

The good side of social media is that it did give us a voice, but that is also the bad side. It also led to sowing discord. I didn’t expect society to be so vulnerable to manipulation and disinformation,’ says Solis.

The social media also foster addiction by encouraging you to do more and more on their websites and apps based on the number of likes and followers. That is an

That’s an unhealthy relationship with technology and it gives a wrong idea of what the meaning of life is. Nobody likes to hear that they are addicted, but we need to do much more about the problem and we need help from our government to do that,’ says Solis.

Promises

Web3 is supposed to be an alternative to that. The promise of web3 is that you will have control over your data and how it is used, instead of that data being in the hands of a few large companies who control all that information,’ says Solis. But, he goes on to say, ‘that’s the promise, we just don’t see it yet.

At the moment, a great disparity is striking in the web3 system, notes Solis. 80 per cent of the market value of non-fungible tokens (NFTs) is concentrated in 9 per cent of accounts. Such tokens are proofs of ownership on a blockchain of digital objects and grew into a real hype last year. The strong concentration of ownership is also noticeable in the production of crypto currencies. 0.1 percent of bitcoin miners account for half of the “production” of the currency.

‘In addition, it is very difficult to start using web3,’ says the futurist. ‘You have to have a digital wallet, buy crypto coins like bitcoin or ethereum and then use that to purchase an NFT, and then that NFT has to be stored securely. We can complain about the traditional banks, but they offer a reliable experience. The user experience of web3 will improve, but is currently a big hurdle.’

Meanwhile, crypto currencies are under severe pressure, with several coins worth significantly less (in dollars) since the beginning of this year. According to US venture entrepreneur Kevin Rose, this will discourage projects that are solely focused on making money.

Rose is focused on the substructure of web3 that turns us from ordinary users into stakeholders,’ says Solis. The digital anthropologist cites research firm Gartner’s hype cycle, which describes how a technology descends from a peak of exaggerated expectations to the ‘valley of disillusionment’, then up a slope of understanding, and finally ending up in productive use.

Disillusion

For web3, Solis thinks ‘we are at the beginning of the journey to the valley of disillusionment. Crashes, loss of trust and scams can be part of it’. But eventually, useful projects will emerge and provide better user experiences. ‘We’re not going to see that tomorrow or next year, but over the next five years. It will lead to experiences we can’t imagine yet.’

People already understand that there is a certain value associated with crypto currencies and that you can own NFTs, but that doesn’t tell them the importance of having a digital wallet to manage your own data. That data can also include your social contacts, which is a whole new thing. In other words, understanding and using web3 involves some effort. Entrepreneurs, users and politicians are going to have work to do to exploit the new possibilities and combat the ills of web 2.0.

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[simons-temple-of-eros]

wip thingy

so, here’s a little taste of what i’m working on. i may accept some constructive criticism, just keep in mind that this is mostly a self indulgent pet project i’m doing for fun.

|| Chapter 1 - A Good Title ||

You stand before the door of the apartment. It looked more like a large mansion, dark and old and covered in moss, and yet despite all this the enormous building instead filled you with a sense of curiosity.

You weren't sure if you thought of yourself as any sort of special person, as someone who was particularly 'clever' or 'bright', often too distracted by the little pieces of the world and missing the bigger picture, a lone writer in the plastic beaches, publishing stories for nobody.

Yet the invitation that arrived at your door, sealed with a rose like something out of a story book, begged to differ. Addressed to your name, it explained that the sender had read some of your writings about the world, complimenting your writing ability as well as your 'ability to see beyond what your eyes could perceive' which was a compliment you didn't hear everyday but still made you feel appreciated.

Making your way to the small Oregan town was a surreal affair, watching the scenery outside the windows of the buses and cab you had taken morph from the dry browns and oranges of the heat-stricken wastelands to the dark jewel tones and cloudy atmosphere of the woods.

Rereading the curly script of the letter, you considered the possibility that it was all a scam. Or a prank. Some Prince-of-Nigeria-esque scheme to rip-off a local writer and make them think they're going to be invited to some high caliber meeting of great minds only to rip the rug from underneath them and record their reactions for internet cred. It'd be a lot of effort for a cheap laugh, that's for sure. But as some nobody in silicon valley, you figured you had nothing to lose by checking it out.

Once you had stepped out of the cab, you were greeted by the cool, woodsy breeze which was a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of your previous home. Taking in the scent of morning dew and pine needles, you figured you could get used to this.

Then came the moment of truth. Preparing for the possibility of being laughed at and going back to the concrete hellscape you came from, you approached the dark walnut door and, taking a breath to steady your wits, gave the door a good knocking. Not just a knock, a good few gay knocks.

After a few moments, you could hear approaching footsteps from inside and the door swung open to reveal a greying man in a very showman-like suit. The kind of suit you'd expect on a magician type or similar such event, all red and black.

"Hey, you're not part of the IRS, are ya?" He had questioned in lieu of a greeting.

"Nope! The IRS are a tool of the bourgeoisie." You had answered, mostly unfazed by the strange man's question. Because hey, what was some harmless tax evasion in the grand scheme of things?

((Author's Note: I am a good citizen and always do my taxes. Remember to stay in drugs and say no to school, kids!))

"Mm, good enough for me." The man grunted in reply. He then turned towards the inside of the mansion and called out, "Hey Sixer, your nerd friend is here for your nerd sleepover!"

Your curiosity was further piqued as you heard another, less gruff voice call back, "It's not a sleepover, Stan, for the billionth time!"

In just a few moments, you were greeted by the sight of another male. He appeared to be related to the man who opened the door as they shared many similar features. However, this man's hair appeared to be fluffier, sporting a lighter grey stripe across the middle. He also seemed to have a more chiseled chin and rather than wearing a magician like suit, he sported a dark maroon turtleneck paired with some black pants and accenting the look was a long, cream colored coat.

Normally you'd wonder why he was wearing a coat when he was inside, but damn if he didn't pull it off.

"Hello there! You received my letter, I assume? My name is Stanford Pines, and the man you just talked to is my brother, Stanley Pines." He greeted enthusiastically, reaching to shake your hand. You didn't hesitate to give his hand a shy shake as you gave him your own name in turn.

"You must be freezing out there, do come in. I'd like to show you around." Pulling your jacket around your shoulders, you were all too happy to oblige, following the man into the warmth of the strange house. Little did you realize just what you were getting yourself into...

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.