#slow over rate

[banglakhobor]

প্রথম টি-টোয়েন্টিতে স্লো ওভার রেট, আর্থিক জরিমানা হার্দিক-রভমনদের

ত্রিনিদাদ: ওয়েস্ট ইন্ডিজের বিরুদ্ধে প্রথম টি-টোয়েন্টি ম্যাচে হারতে হয়েছে ভারতীয় দলকে। হার্দিক পাণ্ড্যর নেতৃত্বে টি-টোয়েন্টি সিরিজের শুরুটা একদমই ভাল হয়নি টিম ইন্ডিয়ার। গোদের ওপর বিষফোঁড়া স্লো ওভার রেটের জন্য ভারতীয় দলের ম্যাচ ফি-র পাঁচ শতাংশ কেটে নেওয়া হল। নির্ধারিত সময়ের মধ্যে এক ওভার কম করেছিলেন ভারতীয় বোলাররা। তার জন্যই এই শাস্তি পেতে হল হার্দিকদের। তবে জিতেও স্বস্তি নেই ক্যারিবিয়ানদের।…

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Come Once Again and Love Me by laventadorn Pairing: Severus/Lily Rating: M Word Count: 179k Severus wakes up in the afterlife expecting something rather different than being almost-seventeen again. But wait - Lily's come back, too - from 1981? Perhaps it's a second chance… but for what?

[greenerteacups]

All this talk of HOTD convinced me to finally watch the show, so I put on the first episode. Fifteen minutes in, I had flashbacks of all the violence and mistreatment of women that went on in GOT, and I had to pause because, damn, does it get intense very very soon. I haven’t watched anything intense in a while, so steeling my heart and taking a couple of breaths before diving back in. Wish me luck.

Yeah it's a very graphic show. Like the books, it's trying to explore the way that classic "medieval fantasy" would realistically operate and, for HOTD in particular, how women would fit into that picture. If that's not your usual palate in terms of media, I can see how it might not be for you! I'm a sucker for thick worldbuilding and a low magic system, and even by its own standards I do think the writing is a cut above what you get on most "prestige" TV. But it's probably the most violent show on mainstream TV since AGOT/TWD.

[cosmicheartz]

Man I am indecisive as hell when it comes to Solanges age ( at the time of her death )

[jukebox-arts]

Escape: Ch 1: Oblivion

So it's been a hot minute since I've posted anything in the yautja/predator fandom, and for personal reasons I've decided to return to my fics and pick up where I left off. Robots have eaten my brain for weeks and while I still love my doofus husbands, I deserve a treat. A little slice of my Hear Me Out cake, if you will, and so I've come to share my backlog.

My yautja fic consists of 4 story arcs that were planned, with the first one being completed with about 10 chapters. It was short and sweet and serves as a prequel more than anything, as part 2 is much longer and more character-focused.

So, because this is my blog and I do what I want, I'm going to subject you all to my old brain rot :) (Please note, "Escape" and the first chapters of the sequel are about 2 years old and I didn't beta it)

*****************************

The first sensation came as a burning fatigue, not unlike his body after a long training day or sparring bender his clan brothers and he often had after too much drink; every muscle ached dully like the morning after, stiff and hard to command at first. Taking a few deep, controlled breaths, Lar’dha focused on his extremities, then worked inward to wake up, willing his body to shake off the weight of sleep while trying to recall the events of the night.

Then, he realized exactly how uncomfortable he was, his neck and collar strained, knees burning from improper posture—had he fallen asleep upright? Clicking in annoyance, he wondered if Nrachade had thought it would be funny to lock his drunken body in a storage closet while unable to fight back.

No. This was something else.

Despite his efforts to wake up, there was a heaviness that wouldn’t leave—his eyelids felt weighted and his limbs held a numbness that would not lift no matter his efforts. A yawn pushed through his sluggish body, his mandibles splaying with the motion—

—his mouth failed to open fully. Something restricted his tusks, kept them bound to his face.

A jolt of panic shot through his body then, granting enough push for him to open his eyes as realize this was not a closet—this wasn’t even his clanship! Feral preservation instincts pulsed through his mind and body now, the weight shedding at last as he lifted his arms to move—

—A metallic grinding sound pulled him back down. Growling deeply, Lar’dha looked around more closely, finding his neck and head restrained by whatever device was keeping his mandibles closed; giving his head a shake, he found it bound in the back to the wall, allowing only the faintest of movements while keeping him fully upright. Wiggling some more now that he could feel his body in full, the male Yautja found his ankles also clamped and spread to either side of his holding unit, still close enough to stand upright but far apart enough to be uncomfortable and lacking in leverage.

The vessel that held him was small, barely wide enough for his shoulders, with only about half a nok between himself and the panel of orange-tinted glass ahead of him. Whatever this was wanted to limit his motion as much as possible, it seemed.

Had he been on the other side of this box, he might have found it a clever way of entrapping live prey—but instead he was the one on display, his hands and wrists fully encompassed in shackles that were drawn by a chain cable into the floor through a small opening. He couldn’t grasp anything and had limited motion, but he could lift his hands at the elbow—only to hear a faint whir and more pressure dragging his arms back down with force. Unable to brace his legs or back, he lost the fight of force, his arms dragged back down into their waiting position.

A deep rumble vibrated in his body. Someone thought the Elite Hunter would make a fun display? They’d have to do so over his dead body!

His hearing canals caught a faint beeping from overhead, then a sharp prick in his right thigh—trying to glance down, Lar’dha saw a large needle surgically taped to his skin and a bright teal liquid slowly making its way to his skin.

Pauk! Sedatives!

The more he struggled, the faster the liquid seemed to move, and he had no chance to escape it, a defiant roar of frustration muffled by the muzzle he’d been fitted with.

He blacked out in moments.

***

Consciousness came at the sound of voices, distant and muffled like they were in a different room, but the warrior focused on his breathing, trying to shed the weight on his body again rather than attempt to chase down the voices. Lar’dha was never good about surprises—he preferred to be the one laying traps and catching others unaware—but this time he had the chance to walk through his thoughts as he woke up, take stock of the situation a bit better before flying into a justified rage.

What did he know?

Groaning as the ache of being held upright finally caught up sounded odd to him, masked as it was behind the humiliating cage on his face, but he was alive at least. He was caged, rather effectively for his consideration, and hooked up to some truly impressive sedatives that seemed to react to his anger. Clearly, anyone that had managed to catch him had enough technology at their disposal to read his vitals and counter any chances of rage or stress that would make his imprisonment an ordeal.

Again, he would be impressed if he wasn’t the one dealing with the set up and the subsequent humiliation it presented. Someone had managed to outthink him—a feat, surely, as Lar’dha was often cited for his cleverness and ability to discern behaviors and ideas through observation in order to counter his prey with clever ruses and traps, rather than rely on outright power. Hunting smartly was his key skill and why he became an Elite.

Yet somehow he was here, the reasoning for his capture eluding him, try as he might to recall what led up to this situation in the first place. If he had to reason a guess, whatever chemical concoction they used to sedate him might be affecting his memory as well—if that were true, he couldn’t risk another dose if he wanted to find a way out. He needed to stay calm and focused. Testing his theory about the chemical substance was a risk not worth taking for the moment if he expected to keep his awareness sharp.

Lar’dha checked his breathing, finding it sharp and shallow but slow, a very deliberate breath that made him realize the air in his chamber was not ideally balanced for him and that he may have been stuck longer than he’d liked to admit, running out of the leeway time his kind had in certain environments without their bio masks to counter the effects. Even more reason, then, to remain calm and not overtax himself.

Not yet at least.

There was little else to study in the box, so the Yautja turned his attention to the exterior area, warped by the layer of protective screening that separated him from the rest of the room. Or a corridor, more like, as it seemed to stretch quite a ways in either direction, though how far was anyone’s guess with his limited mobility. Vaguely, in the very periphery of his vision if he craned his neck to the left, he thought he saw a door frame, but it was flush to the wall and could just as well be simple wall paneling; until someone entered the room, he wouldn’t be able to confirm it.

In the other direction there wasn’t much of anything except a light fixture that failed to light, giving that side of the room a bit of a dimmer look—however he did see that the far wall was lined with more viewing boxes, all empty, from one end to the other—

—No, not all empty. Now that he was really looking, Lar’dha realized there was another trapped behind glass, bound in a similar pose to himself and muzzled, though this creature did not seem to have their head bound to the backplate of their display case, allowing it to bow forward in what he could only see as a pose of submission. Or death.

Chittering uneasily to himself, he glanced up to the top panel of the wall of cases and found a series of rhythmic lights that moved in a steady pattern. Vital signs. While he couldn’t be certain what exactly they were, he at least felt some assurance that he wasn’t trapped alone in a room with a corpse.

It did not explain what it was, however. In all his years of hunting, Lar’dha had encountered creatures both meek and ferocious, intelligent and violently dumb, personable and outright dishonorable, both in his own species and among the many, many things he’d studied and collected, but on occasion he would find things he was not familiar with. This was such a thing, tall and humanoid in a vague sense—it possessed defined arms and had an upright posture at least—with a small head and thick, short neck, it’s facial features obscured by the muzzle they sported. From what he could make out, their skin was smooth, with no definable marks or alterations to their body, and they had only thin drapings to call clothing that barely covered what it needed to and seemed ill fitted for protection of any sort.

With a start, he realized he was also barely wearing anything either, his awake mind finally taking in that he was exposed as well, wearing only a loincloth. Not even his own, at that!

They’d taken his dignity and his armor!

Above him came the beep-beeping that heralded an injection, the vibrant liquid sliding down the tube warningly; even if he had not lashed out, Lar’dha noticed his triple-beat-heart was thrumming harder, betraying the anger he felt inside and triggering the narcotics to come. He needed to calm himself, to focus on his breathing to prolong his lucid time without straining whatever time he had left in the less-than-optimal atmosphere of the box before his body started to fail to keep up with the environment.

Slow. Steady. The chemical stopped creeping when his heart rate slowed, however it did not retreat either. A warning, if anything, about behaving himself.

All good things in time, he told himself, words from his sire that he recalled often from the times when he was young and very eager to prove himself. It was his sire’s observant behaviors and teachings of patience that made him the warrior he is—consequently, the only one of his group to survive their chiva. He would not be able to face anyone of his clan again unless he had the trophy to prove his victory over such shameful circumstances, and that thought alone was almost more unbearable than being tied down like a spit roast waiting to be tressed up for the fire.

A sound, to the left.

He tried to crane his neck for a better view, just barely making out the section of wall he’d noticed before had opened and figures were entering. It was a door after all! Perfect.

It was abundantly clear to him that the two figures that entered were not the same species, and they were dressed as neither security nor doctors, but carried themselves with a focus stating they had purpose for being here. A short one with rough, red skin and yellow ridges approached his chamber, making unwavering eye contact with him as they did—he did not seem to be a threat to them, by their perspective. A mistake to be rectified as soon as he was able to. The companion, a dark teal-green and lanky thing, all sharp edges and twitchy but direct movements, went to the cell containing his fellow hostage and punched in something on a panel just past the edge of the viewing window; he could not see what, as the figure’s body blocked his line of sight.

Little Red had taken to studying the overhead feed while his gaze was distracted, reaching up to the right side of the box, just out of view, and doing… something to it. It was impossible to guess what, but it certainly did not grant him any more freedom than before. They met gazes again for a moment, and Lar’dha felt a discomfort at realizing just how dead they seemed—like the will and fight within Little Red had all but died long ago. Not even traces of sympathy or curiosity seemed to exist in their amber irises as they backed away and turned toward the exit.

Inner deadness did not seem to plague the lanky one whose mouth was flashing a vibrant, hungry grin as they led the other prisoner from their cell and toward the door. At least now, the displeased Yautja had a better view of his prison mate, however brief it was: tall, as he’d assumed, almost as tall as himself even, and a thin tail that drooped toward the floor like a limp piece of rope. They had legs after all, which had to be the most striking part of their figure that he could determine, as their hips and thigh were wide and round, leading to thick legs overall with a digitigrade stance and erred closer to human than animal—this contrasted with their otherwise thin and long frame, giving them a distinctly odd shape that he could only describe as “soft and round”, as no other words came to him.

For a breath, the round, smooth being lifted their head, seemingly glancing at him as they passed, and the elite found a similarly dead gaze as Little Red had. Had that creature once been in a cell as well? Was that his fate if he did not manage to leave this place??

I need to get out.

[soft-girl-musings]

WIP Wednesday

gosh, feels like it's been ages since i've done one of these

still trucking away at MK Bingo, still brainstorming for Dieter, still working on some other things. f i n a l l y started on the next chapter of PPP and we're a long way from finishing but we are making progress babey!!

from Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps chapter 5 (Something's Gotta Give):

Maybe years from now, society adopts stricter rules for how soon you should call on a lady. Even today, some would advise against showing your hand too early. Some men wouldn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate. But Jake Lockley is not a liar. If “desperate” is the word for the incessant drumming in his chest each time you come to mind; if it’s what has him cutting corners and driving recklessly, ushering customers along at double the pace so his thoughts can return to you; if it’s why his palms sweat and nerves ache at the memory of your face that night, that morning… then Jake Lockley is desperate. It’s hardly been a day and a half since he left your apartment cold and injured. The suit stitched him back together in seconds; the only ache that remained was at the thought of you. You, who scooped him off the pavement and took pity on him. Who stained your hands with his blood to make it stop. You, who set his skin on fire with the smallest touch and had him convinced he would burn with or without it. Screw the three day rule. He has to see you.

...needless to say, i'm excited.

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Another uncommon shipping I think would work is Sonia and Nagito. She seems very pleased the way his eyes lit up during the trial like hers do during horror movies and she stuck up for him later on too. I’m a little afraid of him having that much power though…

Ahaha I actually had an au for them post-graduation in a non-despair time in which Nagito is traveling to Novoselic after having won a cruise trip there. And, though he would have avoided long travel, considering that his old classmate happened to be ruling said kingdom, Nagi thought he’d take the risk in order to get a chance to see her in action (plus he’s wanted to see the kingdom after learning so much about it through Sonia). Surprisingly nothing too catastrophic happens on the way and Nagito has a pleasant time taking in the sights. However, he starts noticing that not everything is rainbows and sunshine in Novoselic, and in fact many of its citizens seem rather displeased by the current government. This becomes all too clear when, during a public appearance/announcement made by none other than Sonia herself, Nagito overhears copious jeers towards the princess and even has to step in to stop someone from throwing a shoe at her—the scene causing Nagito’s presence in the kingdom to be known to Sonia. Sonia has a guard escort Nagito to her home, feeling utterly embarrassed of having him witness such a thing. It doesn’t take long for her to come clean of Novoselic’s troubles—more specifically the staggering amount of people who find her inadequate to rule and are opposed to her upcoming coronation. Sonia admits that she’s been lost in what to do ever since her parents sudden passing and feels she’s starting to agree with her citizen’s thoughts of being a failure of a ruler. She’s truly considering giving the crown to her cousin whom some of the citizens are supporting. Nagito’s heart went out to her, knowing fully well the feeling of losing one’s parents so unexpectedly, but to also be expected to lead a nation right after? My god the amount of stress must be astounding. To see the Ultimate Princess this…broken…it was blasphemous. And like hell he’s going to let her give up her crown and fall to despair—not if he can do anything about. So, Nagito offers his services. He reminds Sonia of what great things she’s done and is capable of doing, but what she really needs is support—someone on her corner. And though he may be a lowly nobody, he DOES understand a thing or two about politics (and manipulation). He’ll be her shoulder to cry on so she can turn to her citizens with a collected and confident face. He’ll be her test run when she’s unsure of an idea. He’ll be her eyes and ears to keep track of the masses and their tidying. He’ll be her anything and everything she needs in order to be the best beacon of Hope she can be. And my god does he really mean it.

Of course, this au wasn’t simply going to be a hurt/comfort with a happy ending. Oh no, no, not with Nagito. It would soon get twisted and quite complicated as many things do with him. And their ever intertwining relationship will set Sonia forth as a queen that Novoselic with surely remember.

Oh my god this ask really unlocked these old ass memories of this au that I legit just came up with after listening to Imagine Dragon’s “Enemy” once ☝️ I was like “but what if Nagito becomes Sonia’s advisor and makes her Novoselic’s most notorious ruler??” I didn’t think I still remembered this much of it but here we are lol

[stillfruit]

i love not knowing if i'll ever be healthy again i love all of the time i've used to move my body become nothing i love spending my adulthood wasting away year after year for various reasons baby!

[howdoesone]

How does one convince an Olm that it’s okay to come out and see the light?

Introduction to the Olm: The Mysterious Cave Dweller The Olm, also known as the “human fish,” is an enigmatic amphibian that resides in the dark, underwater caves of the Dinaric Alps in Europe. With its pale, almost translucent skin and ability to thrive in complete darkness, the Olm is a fascinating creature of the deep. Its eyes are underdeveloped, a testament to its life in perpetual…

[dracomeir]

I’m genuinely curious. Which fanfic of mine do you guys like the most?

The stats on Ao3 alone isn’t an accurate gauge for me since some have more kudos, but less hits. One has like 2x the bookmarks over the one that has the most kudos for some reason. Some have subscribers while others don’t, and some have comments while others don’t while having similar stats with each other. Getting a better idea of what readers like/want more of would be nice, but I’m still gonna write whatever I feel like. (More like whatever brain wants to, but still.)

[kitkat-the-muffin]

Finally saw Yuri On Ice

It sure was gay

Anyway that’s about it

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Do It All Over Again (Series) by DracoWillHearAboutThis Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: E Word Count: 468k, 9 Works Podfic available here Read by: Sandstripe Length: 30+ hours All he wanted was a way out. A way to do it all over again, and to erase his mistakes. He stared at the crackling blue flames so hard they imprinted in his vision. At age eleven, Draco receives a letter from the future, which will make him change the path he has set out upon and lead him into a life he'd never dared to imagine.

find the full podfic library here

[queen-mabs-revenge]

oh it's real depression hours

[doedipus]

I had some misconceptions about what fast rcs do in strive, and they're actually significantly less strong than I thought, but they're still basically free to go for and the reward is still good, so I think trying to go for them more often is 100% the right move

[hussyknee]

Having low expectations almost paid off. Nicholas Galitzine was perfectly cast and put his whole foot into this. Taylor was very charming. They have great chemistry and no self-consciousness. I wanted hot guys getting it on and I got it. Zahra and Nora carried the rest of the movie.

I sure wish Alex had been in this movie though! However, I forgot that Greg Berlanti's brand is not simply failing to meet standards but actively fucking them over. Kind of want to send Matthew Lopez a fruit basket for the sex scenes and a dog poop for the rest of it. It's one thing for a movie to be sub-par, it's another for it to be two hours worth of sexist and racial microaggressions.

[aloeverified]

not to be a true love hater or whatever, but i genuinely cannot imagine marrying someone after only being together for like two years. like that's a stranger.

maybe it's just my perspective because i've been with my boyfriend for seven years, but i feel like you don't truly know someone in every way to guarantee all the ups and downs of marriage until you've been together for at least four unless maybe you've been friends for way longer.

especially when you're young too because you're constantly changing changing changing. like, if you're in your 40s and have your life pretty planned out and everything then i guess it's not too crazy — but even then i feel like you haven't been through enough with them to ensure that you or them will want to remain married under every possible circumstance unless you've been going through like the actual apocalypse together.

i don't know. maybe i've just study too much psychology and have had too many long term friendships end to be able to put myself in other people's shoes but like. two years of knowing someone and getting married is so crazy to me oh my goodness.