#so many animals and caravans

[pushing500]

Randy Random decided that Salvatore the cat was not enough for our colony and sent us eleven chickens, a brachiosaurus (we hunted it for the fifteen units of kibble and three silver it was carrying), and a feralisk migration (which we steered well clear of).

AND THEN Randy sent three caravans in rapid succession, one which had Socks' wife (Socks is in prison atm), and one with Vasso's biologically-older, chronologically-younger brother.

We sold all our male chickens to one of the caravans, I didn't pay attention to which one it was, and now we are down to four out of eleven chickens, which is much more manageable.

A man named Purple Shark crashed near us, and we deigned to rescue him, but if he wants to stick around he'll be treated to the same fate as Socks and Blackdragon.

Speaking of Socks and Blackdragon...

They tried to break out together (how the tables have turned from Blackdragon holding Socks prisoner!!), and we decided now was as good a time as any to begin our violent conversion while our guest Purple Shark slept in the background.

Blackdragon was first up, and he saw our "reasonable ways" (what reasonable ways??) and converted. So it looks like we won't be eating him anytime soon, but he is still in jail until we can recruit him. We do have to wait twenty days before we can do the ritual with Socks, but if she converts in those twenty days, we'll just recruit her and be done with it.

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[nonsensology]

This was supposed to just be a rough sketch, but then I started getting really invested in it.

I hadn't initially intended to include so many picture book characters, but the nostalgia was overwhelming. Does anyone remember the animated short films produced by Weston Woods? My local library used to have a bunch of them on the Scholastic VHS tapes from the late 90s. (I know some shorts were released on the Children's Circle VHS tapes back in the 80s (🎶 Come on along! Come on along! Join the caravan!), and some were packaged in Sammy's Story Shop in 2008.)

Characters:

Max, from Where the Wild Things Are, written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak

Peter, from The Snowy Day, written and illustrated by Ezra Jack Keats

Brother Bear and Sister Bear, from The Berenstain Bears series, written and illustrated by Stan and Jan Berenstain

Pooh and Piglet, from the Winnie-the-Pooh books, by A. A. Milne, illustrated by E. H. Shepard

Owen, from Owen, written and illustrated by Kevin Henkes.

Mouse, from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, by Laura Joffe Numeroff, illustrated by Felicia Bond

Louis, from The Trumpet of the Swan, by E. B. White

Mr. Toad, from The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, based on the illustrations by E. H. Shepard

Mr. Tumnus, from The Chronicles of Narnia series, by C. S. Lewis

Pippi and Mr. Nilsson, from the Pippi Longstocking books, by Astrid Lindgren

Willy Wonka, from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl, based on the illustrations by Quentin Blake

Matilda, from Matilda, by Roald Dahl, based on the illustrations by Quentin Blake (with an homage to the Mara Wilson movie)

Peter Pan and Tinker Bell, from Peter Pan, by J. M. Barrie

Merlin and Archimedes, from The Sword in the Stone, by T. H. White, based on the illustrations by Dennis Nolan

Pinocchio, from Pinocchio, by Carlo Collodi, based on the illustrations by Enrico Mazzanti

Alice, White Rabbit, and Cheshire Cat, from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll, illustrated by John Tenniel

Rupert Bear, from the Rupert stories, created by Mary Tourtel and continued by Alfred Bestall, John Harrold, Stuart Trotter, and others.

Arthur Read, from the Arthur series, written and illustrated by Marc Brown

Tin Woodman and Scarecrow, from the Land of Oz series, by L. Frank Baum, based on the illustrations by W. W. Denslow and John R. Neill

The Cat in the Hat, from The Cat in the Hat, written and illustrated by Dr. Seuss

a frog on a flying lily pad, from Tuesday, written and illustrated by David Wiesner

Charlotte, from Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White

[sophie-frm-mars]

We've just spent 3 days on the ZAD filming a documentary and I'm really excited. If you don't know, the ZAD is a French term that means Zone a Defence and means somewhere squatted or occupied to resist the state. In particular we were on the Notre Dame des Landes ZAD, a massive area of biodiverse wetland that was squatted by farmers, ecologists, anarchists and communists for over a decade to stop the French state building a new airport near Nantes. Eventually the state gave up and the squatters won, and now they live there outside of modern capitalism taking care each other in a manner that it wouldn't be unreasonable to call real, actual communism that's happening inside the imperial core right now

We stayed at pa Rolandiere, one of many little communes within the ZAD, and home to Jay and Isa, authors of We Are Nature Defending Itself. Like many of the places we saw, there is a central common living area and lots of little cabins and caravans around for sleeping in, but la Rolandiere also has a couple of pretty unique things. They have a lighthouse, and a visitors welcome centre. Jay told me this is because they see conviviality as a certain kind of revolutionary practice. The state paints the people on the ZAD as terrifying violent criminals, so having a welcome centre for visitors to come and learn about the ZAD is a kind of direct resistance to that.

I learned a hell of a lot being there. I talked to farmers, artists, squatters, a medic, a botanist and of course, lots of communists. I also walked miles through forests and fields and got to forage some interesting mushrooms which was very special for me. I'm looking forward to seeing the documentary develop into a real thing, but sitting on the train back from Nantes to Paris right now I'm reflecting on it all and I really feel like I'm coming down off an incredible high. This morning I was weeding a row of carrots!

I keep thinking about our interview with the botanist Jasmine, who told us that on the ZAD it's really hard to be lonely, because even if you aren't around human beings, you feel the presence of all the plants and animals in a way that you don't do anywhere else, and I really think it's true. I'm going yo be thinking about the ZAD for a long, long time. I may not have been a part of their struggle but I hope that my documentary can be. We are not defending nature, we are nature defending itself 🌺🍄🦎

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Beginning Relationship Pt. I Edition!)

(I thought this song would be fitting considering King Candy’s voice is based on the vocal performance Ed Wynn did for the Mad Hatter… That and its… Nostalgic🔑 [I saw the animation meme culture rise and fall.] lol)

- So, as we all know, the more unpleasant parts of his personality (which could tie him to Turbo) are suppressed, and hidden, though they can still peak out when he’s feeling particularly malicious.

- He’s a slime, a real manipulative rat who’s so sure he can keep everyone in the dark, who takes it slow with you at first to try to maintain his hard work.

- There’s a clear wall between what he displays in front of others and how he is, just the way he likes it, but honestly— If you mean so much to him, you get a weird mix of the two (well, more than usual), a kind of sweet goofiness that’s followed up with a snide remark about being the most skilled in some specific topic.

- Again he’s not the best lover, though from his previous indiscretions he has learned to be more open to others feelings— But only for your sake, mostly cause he can’t stand anyone else besides you…. And Sour Bill sometimes, but he’s mostly the personification of a minimum wage worker.

- Spending time together after hours is a must, though he’s more understanding now than he was before, not demanding every moment of your time but relishing whenever you do.

- I think all that time alone before Sugar Rush got plugged in made him lonely, and less stubborn to admit that he wants that comfort from someone else.

- I don’t think it’s much of a far reach when I say maintaining the King Candy persona is something he is very fluid in, but it’s exhausting at times.

- When he gets that seldom time alone without any of his kingly duties he finds himself yearning for your comforting touch, that stubbornness making way as he makes Sour Bill retrieve you.

- I can see moments between the two of you to be on the tamer side, not as many arguments like Pre-RoadBlasters, little to none really, but there are these tense moments where you ask him something a little too close to home and he becomes stiff in your arms if only for a brief moment.

- As much as he wants to be, not only for himself but maybe even you— He isn’t perfect, he isn’t the person he tries so hard to be, that gleeful and peppy voice going flat the second he isn’t feeling it anymore.

- It becomes apparent the more you know him he’s far more serious than he lets on, puffing his chest up slightly when things don’t go his way and he has to play dirty, which he’s certainly no stranger to...

- In comparison to himself when the arcade first ever opened, he’s certainly grown from that childish hatred, for better and for worse.

- He’s more affectionate for one, providing you with comfort fitting to how you are feeling at that moment, little compliments, and gestures of affection to quell your anger and anxiety in a matter of seconds.

- Quick to learn every little thing about you to make sure he’s able to relate to you, though his intentions with this information go back and forth.

- He wants everything on a silver platter, not only for himself but also for you, making the other subjects of Sugar Rush bend over backward for you, even when you object to all the attention.

- I think one of the ways he dotes on you in a way is date planning, various areas in Sugar Rush vary which can be very nice date spots… He seems like the picnic blanket and tea liker as King Candy, as stereotypical as that is lol.

- Though if that isn’t your style, he can always do dates at the castle, like baking— chatting the night away, it’s the simple things in life <3

- Even with his character growth he is far from a good person, which we all know and love for the most part. He’s fully aware that the things he does to bar you, Venallope, the Sugar Rush inhabitants, and even the arcade entirely is cruel, spiteful even. But what could he have done? Let himself fade into obscurity and be characterized after one of his biggest mistakes?

- No, no, not when he still has so much to provide— He’s a person, just like everyone else, better yet he was programmed to be better. Why should he stand aside and let the world spin without him? Why should he look at you from afar when he has every right to want you?

- That’s part of the reason why he’s so adamant about keeping his spot as the monarch of Sugar Rush, he’s the rightful ruler after all.

(Cr cqh’r lncp, hjw cq cr?)

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Nine

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You’re invited to stay the night at the Delphi camp. Despite the the way you feel after your reading, Tommy urges you not to cause trouble and to pretend like everything’s okay until you leave in the morning. Easier said than done…

Warning: language, alcohol, harassment, ethnic slur, almost smut

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Nine: Dancing in the Moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight. You can't dance and stay uptight, it's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight.  — Dancing in the Moonlight, King Harvest

You were not a light weight. 

Working in a bar for many years and having learned quite a few drinking games in college, your tolerance for alcohol had grown to an impressive height. 

At least, that’s what you thought. 

The thing was, having traveled back a hundred years, the food and drinks were a completely different animal. 

For starters, just the simple access to food was something that, even to this day, you were still getting adjusted to. For the first month, you didn’t think you’d ever go a day when the subtle ache in your stomach from hunger would subside. It felt like a permanent fixture of your daily routine at that point. 

You seriously could not wait until home refrigerators became an affordable thing. Or non-mice-infested pantries. 

The hunger began to ease once your friendship with Ada deepened and your job with the Shelbys became routine. You weren’t sure if Polly could instinctively sense your in-neediness, or if it was just part of her caretaker character after looking after her niece and nephews for most of their lives — but either way, Polly was always shoving a plate or cup of something in front of you when you found yourself sitting in the family kitchen or the sitting room. 

You thought it was odd at first, especially at the beginning when you didn’t think she liked you at all. But eventually you came to understand, and appreciate.

That appreciation bloomed tenfold when the boys came back and you stopped going over to the Shelby house for a couple weeks. Especially on the days when you were so busy and worked at the pub for such long hours, you’d get home and realized you hadn’t had a bite to eat at all since you woke up that morning. 

You didn’t let yourself have too many of those days before you got smart, thinking ahead to stash some food in the pub office to eat on a break or when you got off work. 

Thankfully, the night you’d played your drinking game with Tommy had been one of those days when you’d remembered to eat. 

Today, you were beginning to realize, had not been one of those days. 

After you and Tommy left Madam Despoina’s caravan, Johnny Dogs led you both to a bon fire and a blur of people shoved a plate of something in your right hand and a cup of something else in your left. 

Not giving a flying fuck in the world about what was in the cup, you knew it had to be alcohol and you were desperate for some kind of solace from the absolute madness that you’d just had to endure. 

So you downed the cup. And an instant later, someone was refilling it and you graciously downed it again without even so much as looking at your plate. 

How did they expect you to eat after everything that’d just happened? How did Tommy expect you to just hang out with these people like their leader hadn’t just mind fucked the hell out of you? How were you supposed to act normal, like nothing happened, when you couldn’t even understand how your feet were moving under your body at this very moment? 

Your cup was full again. By the time you felt a pair of hands grab your waist and pull you toward a seat by the fire, it was empty. 

Without even looking to see who’s hands were on you, you knew it was Tommy. You should have been over analyzing the way your body had grown so comfortable with these small touches so quickly, but your brain was fritzing too much to appreciate again. 

“You need to relax,” you heard softly, the vibrate of his voice against your ear and body heat against your side made you shutter. 

Someone came over to refill your glass again, but before you could raise it to your lips, Tommy relinquished the drink from your grasp. Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him, noticing him give a pointed look at the refiller before meeting your eyes. 

His brow lifted at your confusion and nodded toward the still untouched plate in your other hand. “Not ‘nother sip until you eat.” 

You pouted slightly, missing the way his stern expression turned into amusement by your disappointment as you started to dig into the meat.

“If you expect me to relax and be sober tonight after what just happened, you’re crazy —“ 

“What I expect is for you to not cause trouble, to play merry guest to our hosts so that we get out of here unscathed in the morning,” his deep low voice vibrated through you once more at his closeness, and it made you shiver again. 

He mistook your body’s reaction to his voice for being cold and wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder to try and warm you up while ordering you to keep eating. His body felt like a fortress around yours, and your brain began to slow in its spiraling. 

You looked up at Tommy, watching the light from the fire dance across his brilliant blues as they continued to scan your surroundings. A feeling crept up in you as you outlined the profile of his face, focusing on where sharp lines met soft curves until you felt him pull you even closer to him, the arm around you tightening. 

“May we help you?”

For a moment you thought Tommy was talking to you, having been so focused on him that you hadn’t heard anyone else approach the two of you. 

Your head finally turned and your eyes adjusted until they landed on the man who escorted the three of you into the camp standing in front of you. His eyes were moving between you and Tommy, lingering longer on you, which caused Tommy’s grip to tighten again. 

“Just wanted to see if the lady wanted to dance,” the man replied, sounding innocent enough as he stepped aside and gestured to the group of people dancing next to the fire. Music was playing somewhere on the other side and you were surprised that you hadn’t noticed it before. 

“Perhaps later,” Tommy answered for you. “After she’s had a chance to finish eating.”

The plate that was still in your hand suddenly felt heavy at his words, remembering his instructions. 

You were hating that in the last couple days, you felt like your brain was constantly trying to catch up with your surroundings. Usually you prided yourself on your awareness, but ever since Tommy flew into your life it felt like you couldn’t keep up. 

It didn’t help that you were at least moderately buzzed at this point. 

“Dancing would be fun,” you said, mostly to yourself, once the man left.

You felt Tommy sigh as you continued to pick off another piece of the meat.

“Fine,” Tommy said, rising from his seat. You shivered at the quick removal of his body heat from your side as you looked up at him confused. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s dance.”

“Um,” you hesitated, but moved to set down your plate as you took his hand and he pulled you upright. Your eyes scanned the bon fire where the others were dancing as Tommy led you closer, his hand on your back. “I, um — I actually don’t really know how to dance.” 

“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised at your reveal, pulling you closer to him as you got to the dirt dance floor. “Well, allow me the honor of teachin’ you.” 

He smiled as he faced you, taking your right hand in his and you instinctively placed your left hand on his shoulder. Your eyes continued to scan behind Tommy, trying to take in the motions of those around you to mimic as best you could. You saw Johnny Dogs spinning a woman around, both enjoying themselves to the upbeat tempo. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, but everyone looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. It eerily reminded you of dance clubs back in your time — rhythmic chaos.

“Eyes here,” Tommy’s soft voice snapped your eyes back to his, feeling his hand settle once again at the base of your back, pulling you closer to him. “The dancin’ at a gypsy camp is much different than a ballroom. You’ll find it’s quite difficult to waltz when the mud sticks to your soles.” 

You chuckled at that, still feeling a little insecure as he began to move, taking a step backwards, and then forward, as your bodies began to hop to the beat. It was simple, like walking. But you couldn’t stop your eyes from watching your feet, unsure where Tommy’s lead was going to take you and paranoid that you’d step on his feet. 

“Eyes, Y/N,” Tommy said again, his voice with more authority but still amused as you looked sheepishly back up at him. He chuckled, “If you watch your feet you’re bound to trip. Keep your eyes on your partner and your body will follow.”

“Tell that to your feet later,” you countered, still skeptic in his advice. 

“Everyone can do the foxtrot — even me.”

Your chin nudged to the people beside you, who were dancing much wilder than you and Tommy. “And them? What dance are they doing?” 

Tommy shrugged, “A variety, I suppose. Looks fun, dunnit?” 

At that, Tommy pushed you outward and whipped the hand still holding yours so you’d spin back into him, your arm and his now wrapped around you as your body collided with his. You squealed in surprise, returning back to your original position. Tommy was smiling down at you as he pulled you in closer, moving your bodies faster than previous as the music quickened. 

“It’s not far off from the dancing you do in the Garrison,” he reminded you. Your mouth opened to counter, a flush of embarrassment of him having watched you dance and sing when you thought you were alone in the pub, but he stopped you. “Just have fun with it. Don’t think, just feel.” 

You hushed your original response and squeezed your lips together. Your eyes moved between his, “First horse steering, now dancing. What else can you teach me?” 

He hummed, his cheek rising in amusement as his gaze moved lower to your lips. 

Of course, Johnny Dogs chose that time to approach the two of you, dancing happily and obliviously as he shouted his greeting over the music. 

“Johnny would be a much better teacher of dancing, I’m afraid you’ve exhausted my abilities,” Tommy said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You doubted his words, but Johnny perked up at the compliment and bowed dramatically, offering his hand to you politely. 

You hesitated, not wanting to leave the comfort of Tommy’s embrace. Before you could counter, Tommy was handing you off and taking a step back. You missed the warning look shared between Tommy and Johnny Dogs as the latter pulled you closer to the group. 

You looked behind you as Tommy walked back toward the log you’d previously been sitting at, his hands shoving into his pockets. 

Some time passed (ten minutes, an hour, you had no idea) and you were learning that Johnny Dogs was an excellent distraction from your own intrusive thoughts. That, and the drink that kept appearing in your hands. By the fourth or fifth time Johnny Dogs had you spinning with his hand over your head, you found yourself thinking less about the circumstances of where you were and why, and even less about your out-of-time dancing skills, and actually began to relax. 

And though you missed the intimacy of Tommy’s dancing, you found that Johnny Dogs was wonderful company. He was a good-time-Charlie if you’d ever seen one, and kept you smiling and laughing with every hop, skip, and beat. 

You were spinning again, giggling as you kept your eyes closed before your body collided into another. The person grabbed your waist, and for a moment you thought it was Tommy finally coming back to join you. 

But you quickly realized that the touch wasn’t the same, and turned until you faced the man who’d asked you to dance earlier. 

You still didn’t know his name, but he smiled and pulled you in closer, taking your right hand into his left and sliding his right hand around to your back. He held you like he knew you, and all your instincts told you to pull away. But you couldn’t help but hear Tommy’s voice in the back of your mind telling you to behave, play nice until morning. 

“Finally let you off his leash, did’he?” The man said with a wicked grin as he pulled you closer to him. 

You narrowed your eyes at the implication that you were some kind of dog, and was about to say so when he continued. 

“Madam Despoina told us you were someone special,” he went on, his eyes scanning your face, “said to be on our best behavior and to leave ya be. We were placing bets on who ya were. My guess was the missing princess.”

Your brow creased at that, for a moment forgetting the creepy grip and focusing on his words. “Missing princess?”

He chuckled, “Aye. Many a royal blood ‘as come to our camp or requested the Madam’s presence. You’d be surprised how many queens and princesses I’ve seen since joining the camp. They’re never as pretty as you expect them to be. You on the other hand—“

His finger ran down the side of your face before you shrugged away, his hand still around your waist. 

“I was wrong though. No way you’re the missing princess. I’ve ‘eard Russians before, and they sound nothin’ like ya.”

Russian princess? You thought, trying to filter through your rolodex of historical royals. The obvious came to mind. 

“Anastasia? Really?” your voice was less humorous and more ‘are you an idiot’ sounding than you’d meant. 

The infliction didn’t go unnoticed. The man’s smiling face hardened slightly and his grip around your hand tightened. You immediately regretted your tone and looked over your shoulder to where Tommy had been sitting, but the log was empty. 

“He’s gone,” the man said, knowing who you were looking for. “Went to get his own fortune told, no doubt. Men will pay or do anything for an audience with the Pythia.”

It seemed the old woman carried on the tradition of her ancestors. You wondered if this man was right and tried to discretely look around the camp for him, or even Johnny Dogs. Anyone to keep you from doing something that you’d later get in trouble for. 

“Come on, doll face. What, are ya not having fun with me?” he asked, his voice back to what it’d been previously. It reminded you of every guy who’d never taken no for an answer back in your day. 

“I’m just tired,” you finally mustered, trying to pull away from his grip. “I want to go find my friends.”

“Tired, huh? I can find you a place to lay down—”

“I don’t think so,” your voice stronger, your resolve to behave quickly starting to crack with the way this guy wouldn’t let go of you. “Please, let go of me.”

“But you’re drunk, love. Wouldn’t want’ya to fall. That face is so pretty. The Madam wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to ya.” His grip tightened enough to pull your body close against him, this time without the pretense of dancing. He lifted his hand and moved your hair behind your ear, your skin flinching at his touch as you tried to shrug away again. 

You looked around to see if anyone else was noticing the harassment, but during your dance he’d managed to pull far enough from the fire where no one was paying the two of you any mind. 

“I doubt she’d be happy with you pushing yourself on her guest,” you tried to bite out, still trying to maintain some kind of politeness even though you were two seconds away from kicking the guy in the balls and running. 

His eyes narrowed and smile began to fall as his hand grabbed the side of your head, his fingers forcing your face to look up at him while his thumb spread harshly along your cheek. “She said you were important. That you had a gift. Know what that says to me? That you can make someone a lot of money, eh?”

“Get the fuck off me,” you finally spit, balling up the man’s shirt in your fists that were sandwiched between your bodies as you tried to push him away. 

But his grip tightened as his head began to move closer to your face. You thought for sure he was going to try and force himself on you, and you were already prepping to slam your head into his face before his lips could even try and touch yours. 

You didn’t get the chance to. Suddenly, the man was being pulled backwards and Tommy’s face appeared over his shoulder. 

“Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing?” Tommy asked the man, surprisingly calm. 

The man shoved out of his grasp and shook his shoulders. “We were just dancin’!”

You scoffed, “Yeah, and I’ll dance my foot in your ass the next time you grab me like that!”

The man growled, taking a step forward toward you before Tommy grabbed him by the collar, fist full of shirt as he pivoted himself between the two of you and pulled him closer to his face. 

“Do you know who I am?”

The man tried to shove away, but Tommy’s grip was strong and moved to his throat. The creep looked between his captor and then to you, as if you could save him. As if you’d even try. He finally coughed and nodded. 

“So you know what I do. I give you this chance because we are guests of Madam Despoina and we’re not here to make enemies. But I’ll promise you this, there will not be another chance. The next time you lay a finger on her, my blade goes through your fucking throat.”

Tommy let go of him, nearly shoving him to the ground in the process. While the man tried to catch his breath, Tommy reached behind him until your hand was safely in his own. He pulled you to his side, his eyes finally leaving the other man as you both walked back toward the fire. 

Johnny Dogs was running your way, his eyes reading the situation as he looked behind you and began an apology. 

“Save it,” Tommy spat. “Just make sure the horses are ready by dawn. We’re going to the caravan.”

Johnny nodded and you gave him an apologetic look. It wasn’t his fault that the creep had led you away. You weren’t a child and he wasn’t a baby sitter. But you doubted Tommy wasn’t thinking that way. 

He brought you to another wagon similar to the one Johnny Dogs had been driving, parked along the outskirts of the campsite. There was a small fire just outside, and a rope tied from the wagon to the nearby tree. 

You were about to walk in, the drunk part of your brain (who was trying to detach from the traumatic experience you’d just been a part of) eager to see what the inside of this caravan looked like, when Tommy stopped you. 

His grip made you jump, pulling away from it quickly, your defensive guard still sensitive after what had just happened. Tommy held up his hands, obviously reading the situation and silently apologizing. 

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his hand reaching up to gently touch your face as his eyes scanned you over. 

You breathed out a humorless chuckle at his calmness, “How are you always so— god, you nearly killed that man after he tried to—“ your voice was surprisingly weak as the words died in your throat. 

It wasn’t the first time a man had been grabby with you. Even before your trip to the past, working in a bar and just the everyday life of a girl who enjoyed the occasional night out with her friends. You’d had guys grab you, push themselves against you, even forcibly kiss you. Thankfully, you’d never had anything go further than that. After a time that came too close with a boy you thought was a good friend, you took some self defense classes with your girl friends and started integrating kick-boxing into your workout routine. Since then, you’d only had to use your new skills a handful of times, and luckily each time you’d been able to get away or have the man back off. Even now, in the 20th century, you’d only had to physically fight off one man at the pub, and you’d been lucky to have Harry as backup. But you knew not to let your guard down, especially when you walked the streets after dark. 

What happened to you just now, well it felt much different. It wasn’t a drunkard trying to cop a feel. This man felt like he wanted to own you, control you. And you hated feeling like you couldn’t fight back, all because of whatever social standard bullshit this was supposed to be. 

Suddenly, you were angry at Tommy for having put you in that position in the first place. 

“It took everything for me not to slice his fuckin’ neck open the minute I saw his hands on you,” Tommy replied, his eyes revealing the silent rage behind them. “But that would have spawned a vendetta and a bullet with my name on it by the Delphi family.”

“That what Madam Despoina told you would happen?” you asked, deciding to test the creep’s theory. 

Tommy’s brow creased at your query, his mouth tightened and you already knew your answer. 

“I had to settle payment for our visit,” he explained evenly. “This wasn’t exactly a favor.”

Your anger evaporated as the realities of the situation came into view through your slightly more sober stupor. “How much? Whatever it was, I’ll pay you. Take it out of my paycheck, whatever you need to do.”

Tommy huffed, shaking his head before he started messing with the fire. “Drop it, Y/N—“

“I’m not a hand out, Tommy. And I’m not a doll to be played with at the will of everyone around me,” your voice was harsher than you meant it to be, obviously still affected by the days events. 

It was more than that, even. Your mother, the time jump, being a woman in the 1910s — you were constantly feeling like you were at the mercy of everyone else controlling your life, your future. 

Tommy stood up and cautiously approached you, still sensitive to what you’d just gone through. You suddenly felt dizzy — the alcohol, the adrenaline, the lack of food all in your system. Your knees buckled slightly like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com and Tommy caught you, pulling you against him to stabilize you. 

Your body froze, for a moment feeling like it was in danger again. But you immediately recognized the familiarity of Tommy’s grip and found yourself relaxing into it, trusting his hold on you. 

“You’re a strong woman,” he mused softly, lifting your head up to look at him. “I know you were holding yourself back for my sake. Next time, don’t.”

You all but growled, “You told me to behave.”

“Aye. And I behaved enough for leaving him uncut. But I’d rather face the curse of a fuckin’ angry gypsy than have someone even come close to threatening you again.”

Tommy blinked at his words, obviously surprising himself with them along with you. You didn’t know the first thing about Romani curses, but you knew enough to realize that what Tommy had just said meant something serious. 

He cleared his throat, his grip still holding onto you. “I’ll find out from Johnny Dogs who he is in the mornin’. Whoever he is, he’s high enough to be given escort duties. Believe me, I’ll make sure his actions don’t go unnoticed.”

You nodded, surprisingly okay with letting him take the reigns in how to handle this situation. 

“Go on now,” he nudged you toward the caravan. “The clothes we packed are inside. Change, and I’ll hang up your dress on the line so the mud dries by morning.”

At his words, you lifted up your skirt and felt the heaviness of the wet mud soaked in the fabric. You surprised yourself with how used to the dirt you’d gotten, not even noticing the weight anymore or that your socks were always just slightly damp. 

You climbed up the stairs and sat at the top, leaning forward to unlace your boots and slide off your shoes and sock. He tied the laces of your boots together and hung them and your socks over the line. 

You sent Tommy another look as you stood up at the top of the stairs, half worried that he’d disappear again like he had when he left you to dance. 

He seemed to recognize your look and moved to the doorway. This was the first time you’d ever been taller than Tommy, and you took in the new angle of his face as your fingers itched to reach out. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Go, get dry and warm. I’ll stand guard right here where you can see me.”

Silently, you nodded as you finally entered the caravan. 

Inside, an oil lamp and a few candles were lit so you could see, and you were surprised at how big the inside was. It was different than the one you’d been in to meet Madam Despoina. It was interesting how much it resembled a modern day sleeping RV — bed palette against the back wall, vanity to your right, even a small stove and fireplace to your left. You ran your hand along the wall and marveled at the beauty of the carvings and ornate decorations that lavished the space. The whole thing was absolutely beautiful and you wanted to meticulously look at every single piece of art that was this caravan. 

Your foot hit the bag Tommy had packed you and you remembered what you were there for, rummaging through and grabbing the nightgown Tommy had shoved in there without you realizing. Luckily, it’d been one of the clean ones, and you sent a quick prayer to whatever god you needed to be thanking for this miracle. Even if you were in the 1910s, you’d still be mortified if you had to share a bed with a man wearing dirty clothes. 

You paused, both realizing and wondering if you actually were going to be sharing this bed with Tommy tonight. On the vanity, there was an empty bowl and pitcher of water. You peeled out of your warm clothes, peeking over your shoulder to double check that the door was still closed while still being able to see Tommy’s silhouette through the stained glass. The cold air hit your skin, and you were suddenly thankful for this centuries insistence on wearing multiple layers of clothing. 

You sacrificed a splash or two of water from the pitcher to give yourself a quick hand wash, focusing on the essentials at the moment — your hands, face, neck, arm pits, under your breasts, and between your legs, even swishing some in your mouth and spitting it into the unlit fireplace. You gave yourself a sniff with semi-satisfaction (not that you trusted your sense of smell at all anymore, though being out of Birmingham and in the outdoors definitely increased the aroma in the air) before finally throwing on the nightgown. 

You appraised yourself in the small vanity mirror, pulling the pins out of your hair and combing it with your fingers until some of the tangles released. In the nightgown, a scene from the movie The Mummy came to mind and you felt like Evie from the boat scene, realizing that in just a few fictional years Brendan Fraser would be battling over the City of the Dead. 

Shaking the frivolous thought from your head, you gathered up your clothes and finally walked back toward the door, knocking on it before opening. Tommy took them from you and secured them on the line before standing back in front of the doorway. His eyes took you in, and you suddenly felt shy, questioning the sheerness of the nightgown with the light illuminating behind you. 

“Oh, you need to change too!” You realized, almost jumping as you tried to figure out where you needed to go in order for him to do that. 

“Hand me the bag, I can change out here.”

Your brow creased. “It’s way too cold out here for you to do that.”

“It’s too cold for you to stand out here in just that as well,” he responded, gesturing toward you. Feeling even more exposed, you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, as if that could hide anything. 

He took off his jacket, and for the first time you noticed the shoulder holster. He hadn’t had it on the other night, which you found curious, and you were realizing that aside from the blade in his hat, this was the first time you were seeing Tommy Shelby with a weapon.

Your eyes moved with the movement of his hands as he began to unhooked his watch chain before putting it and the watch back in the pocket. He shrugged off the holster, cradling it in the bend of his arm as he started unbuttoning his vest. The motion snapped you out of your gaze as you stood there awkwardly, wondering if you should be turning away to give him his privacy when he handed the contents and his hat to you. “Hang these on the hook inside.”

You moved at his instructions, ready to make yourself busy. Before you could return to the doorway, Tommy was making his way up the steps. You noticed he’d hung up his breeches, socks, and shoes, as well as put out the fire. He stood in the doorway in nothing but his pants, shirt, and shoulder holster, waiting for permission to enter the caravan from you. 

Grabbing the bag that wasn’t yours, you handed it to him and cleared your throat, trying to keep your eyes from staring too long. 

In the past few months since you’d arrived in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving and trying to figure out what was going on, your love life had been the very last thing on your mind. Even before you time jumped, you’d been going through a dry spell in your dating life.  

Tommy Shelby had reignited something that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. And despite every reasonable argument you’d had with yourself since the moment you met him, you absolutely couldn’t deny your attraction to him on both an emotional and physical level. 

Suffice it to say, it’d been quite a while since you’d been alone with a man in a bedroom before. And of all the things, there was no way being alone with a 1918’s gangster in his underwear was on your time travel bingo card. 

You were wondering if they had the game bingo yet while Tommy rummaged through the bag, grabbing a pair of socks and handing them to you. 

“These are bound to be much warmer than whatever is in your bag. First rule we learned in France durin’ the winter was to always keep our head and feet warm and dry.”

Unsure how to respond, you grabbed the socks and followed his orders again. You realized what a militant follower you were when you had no idea what to do with yourself or how to handle your own awkwardness. As you sat on the bed and put on the socks, you watched Tommy start up the fireplace easily, mumbling something about wishing he’d done it earlier. But you were already starting to feel warmer with the door shut, the thicker socks, and the extra body heat within the small space. 

You were trying to convince yourself that it was safe falling asleep in this wooden box with a fire burning when Tommy’s voice grew louder. 

“Right, that’ll do it,” he said when he finished, rising from the floor. 

You were still seated on the edge of the bed when he turned toward you. The air grew thick with a tension you easily recognized but refused to name. 

He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he looked down at his feet. “I’ll take the floor. I grabbed the extra blankets when I brought in our bags.”

Your brow creased as you looked from Tommy to the hard, wooden floor, and then behind you to the bed you still sat on. The palette was easily wide enough to fit the two of you. 

“That’s silly,” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself. Tommy paused putting together his makeshift bed and his eyes snapped to yours. You forced your heart to slow and tried to appear cool. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the ground when there’s plenty of room on the mattress.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” he said cautiously, not yet moving to join you on the bed but also not continuing to make the spot on the floor. 

“We’re not teenagers. I think we can control ourselves,” you chuckled, trying to convince both Tommy and yourself that this was the only reasonable option. “I can trust you, right?”

You surprised yourself with the vulnerability behind your question. Your voice must have implied the same because Tommy’s throat bobbed as he considered it. 

The truth was, you did trust him. The rational part of your brain was calling you crazy, especially after what had just happened. But there was something deep in your gut that made you irrationally feel safe in Tommy’s company. You’d been alone with this man more than you had been with him in the company of others, you realized, and this was nothing different. 

You’d just be laying in a bed. Alone. In your underwear. 

“Yes,” Tommy answered simply, though the strength in his voice held the weight of the implication. “I’d like to still sleep closest to the door, if you don't mind.”

You shook your head, scooting backwards on the mattress until you hit the back wall. 

“You sure you don’t mind?” Tommy asked as he approached the bed, throwing the blankets at the foot. “The camp may talk.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t they already think that we’re together anyway, since they only offered us the one caravan to stay in?” 

Tommy shrugged, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall to face you. “Perhaps. But I could have slept in the wagon we came in, or in Johnny’s caravan.”

“I guess,” you replied, leaning back against the opposite wall. “So why didn’t you?”

He breathed out of his nose before reaching to scratch his neck. “I left you alone once tonight. I’m not plannin’ to do that again, not here at least. If you weren’t comfortable with me staying inside the van, I’d spend the entire night sitting against the door. I’d still do that, if you decide to change your mind.”

You felt your face blush slightly, instinctively moved by the protectiveness of his words. A few hours ago you may have protested against needing the bodyguard-like protection, stating that you could take care of yourself just fine. But after the crazy day you’d had — the dream, the reading, the creep — you decided to give in and let him have his way without the usual color commentary. 

Your pride would never let yourself admit it out loud, but in this moment, you welcomed the safety he was offering and tried to not read too much into it. 

“I’m sorry again for that. I shouldn’t have left you.”

You shrugged, trying to rationalize the situation. “It’s no one’s fault. He was determined to get me alone, it would have happened regardless. I’m just glad you got there before I knocked his teeth in. Or something worse.”

You both remained silent for a beat.

“I wish you hadn’t left, though. I was enjoying dancing with you.”

He scoffed, “I saw how much fun you were having with Johnny Dogs. He’s a much better dancer than I am. You were loosening up more with him.”

You shrugged. “I would have gotten there with you, if you’d stayed. You make me nervous, sometimes.”

Tommy hummed, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You didn’t seem nervous in the wagon.”

Your eyes met his, searching to see the exact meaning behind his words. He was talking about your move to kiss him, though he hadn’t said it outright. 

“I was. You hesitated,” your voice softer than you intended, your own insecurities prevalent. 

He breathed in as his eyes flashed down to your lips and then back to meet your eyes. “I’m a cautious man, Y/N.”

“And you don’t trust me,” you swallowed, your eyes dropping down to the spot beside him as Tommy’s own words from earlier that morning rang through your head. 

You heard him breath in deeply through his nose before exhaling. At the feel of him pushing himself off the bed, your eyes moved back to him as you watched him walk to your side of the caravan before sitting back down. 

“I’ll admit, that was an oversimplification to our current situation,” he said as he lifted his hand to your face, his eyes watching your reaction. 

You hated how desperate you wanted him to say he trusted you. So much so, your brain began to scramble to find the words to tell him everything right then and there.

“Tommy,” you breathed out, your mouth ghosting against his as your body instinctively leaned forward.

“You have secrets, but no lies. I can accept that and reciprocate.”

“I don’t want secrets,” you managed to say honestly as your eyes moved between his. 

“Aye. Neither do I. But until then,” his voice died as his thumb brushed across your cheek and his pointer lifted your chin the half inch it needed to line your lips up to his. 

There was no hesitation this time. Tommy kissed you with purpose and depth as his hands raked through your hair to cradle your neck. You met his attention with gusto to match, your hands moving from his chest to his back as you pulled yourself closer. 

When he began to pull away, your arms flexed to keep him against you. You felt his mouth smirk as it hovered over yours, your forehead still pressed against his own before your lips met his again. Your kiss demanded to know why he continued to hold himself back. 

His only response was to tilt his head and open his mouth as his thumb stroked the pulse at your neck before wrapping around your waist. Without warning, he lifted you up and pulled you onto his lap, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as your hands held on to his shoulders. Your fingers found purchase in his hair as you leaned his head back to connect your lips again. 

His hands raked across the expanse of your back and up your sides, his thumb ghosting against the swell of your breasts in an aching tease. On instinct, your hips rolled forward, desperate for some kind of friction to the tightly wound tension that’d been building since the minute you’d seen each other down at the Cut. Tommy’s grip tightened as he groaned at the motion, the evidence of his own enjoyment of your body against his clear as your hips moved to repeat. 

A loud bang at the caravan door caused you both to jump, whipping your heads toward the noise as you gasped. For a moment, you were worried it was the man from earlier back for round two. A second knock followed by a voice calling for Tommy determined it was Johnny Dogs. You let out a relieved breath before it turned to annoyance — how did that man always manage to interrupt you both just when things were starting to get good. You huffed, still trying to slow your heart rate as your forehead met Tommy’s again. 

“Jesus fuckin—“ Tommy swore as he sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth at the third loud knock.

He took your face between his hands before kissing you again. A fourth knock finally had him pulling away from you as you crawled off his lap. 

“Someone’d better be dying,” he said under his breath as he ran his hand across his face and walked across the caravan toward the door. He shouted from the inside of the still closed door, “What?”

“It’s Madam Despoina,” Johnny Dogs said from the other side. “She wants a word. Now.” 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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[soylent-crocodile]

Faller (Monster)

(ISOPOD by Anastasia Berseneva)

CR9 TN Medium Monstrous Humanoid HD12

(As the name may suggest, these were built from the ground up as an terrestrial whalefall specialists, with the various giant beasties of pathfinder substituting for whales. I actually used fallers as a placeholder name but got attached to it, so here they are! They're up there in CR so that a caravan of five of them puts up a genuine threat for someone who might fight an Adult Red Dragon.

Also I don't love this art for fallers, but it was the most buggy of the bipedal isopods i could find.)

Fallers are wandering nomads who specialize in feeding on the carcasses of great beasts, such as giants, dragons, and large dinosaurs. They live in family groups of up to a dozen individuals and have no leader, employing an anarchic decision making process that may see these groups splitting and reforming as different individuals take different paths. A faller caravan’s lifestyle consists of divining the location to various monster falls and then traveling, possibly hundreds of miles, to such a banquet. Upon reaching such a corpse, they will claim it, defend it, and slowly harvest and feed off it until such a time as it grows thin and they must move on to fresher falls. It’s noteworthy that, due to their powerful innate divination magic, a group of fallers may set camp for a death before it occurs. Generally, these divinations hold true, and fallers find a warm corpse at their destination, but twists of fate are not unheard of, and fallers are generally prepared for battle if need be. Fallers are frequently seen ushering giant flies, which serve as a combination of pet and mount, enabling them to engage flying enemies and scout high-up or hard to reach places. These flys are surprisingly docile and loyal in a faller’s hands. 

Fallers are known to come into conflict with adventuring parties over the spoils of the latter’s conflicts; adventurers regularly stake claim to the loot and parts of a particularly dangerous foe, but fallers consider themselves owed the rewards of such a struggle, and practically speaking, are often unable to relocate to a new corpse before the threat of starvation looms. Unfortunately for many adventurers, fallers are trained combatants, and a particularly undiplomatic group of them may spell doom for an adventuring party soon after a proud triumph. Finally, fallers have been known to come into conflict with the cultures dragons and similar great beings surround themselves with; claiming the corpse of a lone dinosaur is one thing, but disassembling and eating a corpse may be less welcome when it’s the corpse of an important leader or respected member of a community. For this reason, cultures led by dragons frequently adopt a kill-on-sight principle for fallers, and kobolds in particular are known to litter a faller’s anticipated path with the most lethal and cruel traps they can manage. 

Despite this, faller’s oracular abilities are also known to a few peoples, and some cultures seek out such beings to ask questions, sometimes deliberately luring them by killing a large animal. Fallers are a practical and isolationist type, however, and must be provided some benefit to expend their divining abilities; especially since such abilities are necessary for their way of life.

Fallers' endonym is a series of rasps and hisses unpronounceable to the average mammal or reptile.

This hunched over biped has a hard, segmented shell on its back, a number of segmented limbs, and large black eyes.

Misc- CR9 TN Medium Monstrous Humanoid HD12 Init:+4 Senses: Perception:+22 Scent, Darkvision 60ft Stats- Str:22(+6) Dex:19(+4) Con:23(+6) Int:15(+2) Wis:24(+7) Cha:16(+3) BAB:+12/+7/+2 Space:5ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:138(12d10+54) AC:24(+4 Dex, +2 Armor, +8 Natural) Fort:+12 Ref:+12 Will:+15 CMD:38 Resist: Acid 10, Cold 10 Immunity: Disease Special Defenses: DR2/Bludgeoning Offense- mwk Glaive +19/+14/+9(1d10+9/x3) or Net +18(Entangle, 10ft) or 2 Claw +16(1d6+6 plus trip) CMB:+18 (+2 Racial bonus to trip) Speed:30ft Special Attacks: Studied Target +3 (Attack, Damage, Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, Survival; Move or Swift Action) Feats- Great Fortitude, Endurance, Point-Blank Shot, Vital Strike, Power Attack (-4/+8), Quick Draw Skills- Climb +15, Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +14, Knowledge (Geography) +14, Knowledge (Nature) +14, Perception +22, Ride +13, Survival +22 Spell-like Abilities- (Caster Level 11, Concentration +14) Augury, Invisibility Purge, Sanctify Corpse 3/day Dispel Magic, Find the Path 1/day Divination 1/week Special Qualities- Ferocity Ecology- Environment- Any Languages- Faller Organization- Pair (2), Caravan (4-6 Fallers, 0-3 Giant Horseflies) Treasure- Standard Special Abilities- Studied Target (Ex)- A faller may use the Studied Target ability as a 10th level Slayer.

[p0rks0d4]

a FEW songs for TMA animatics because i can only add so many audios 🗣️🔥

Jon :

Tim

Nikola

[melodymunson]

Tom Grant x fem reader blurb

ao3 link

Tom was your best friend and lover. Ever since he had ended things with his ex-girlfriend Ruth, he was torn before he had met you. Nothing was going right or his way until you came into his life. One day on the beach you were walking and came across Tom. He was sitting in the sand and you were interested in who he was. Going up to him you got to talking. Both of you had recently been broken-hearted. After his ex moved out he was distraught. It was a chapter that he was done with. After talking for a bit you found out you had many of the same interests. The next day you visited him in his caravan in the trailer park and watched a cheesy rom-com.

The next week you went to dinner together on your first official date. You wore your best and most favorite dress and Tom was looking more dapper than ever wearing his brown suit. The next few months were filled with so much passion. You spent a lot of time on the beach together and exploring the countryside of England. Making love with Tom was always mind-blowing. You bought the Kama Sutra to try out new positions and loved every second of it together. The both of you were adventurous and open-minded in the bedroom. He'd buy you so many amazing sex toys. You even got him a personal Fleshlight shaped like your pussy from a mold. For you, Tom had a mold made and sculpted of his cock. One day though his ex came back and threatened you. Tom had none of it and he consoled you. The caravan park owners were aware of Ruth and eventually Ruth stopped showing up. Tom would do something nice for you every day. Whether it be doing your laundry for you, cooking spaghetti dinners by candlelight, or buying you flowers and winning you stuffed animals from the arcade he worked at just because. He would also buy you chocolates your favorites and your favorite candy as well. With Tom, you felt so happy. Eventually, you adopted a cat together a tuxedo kitten named Cookies and Cream. When it was New Year's you would watch the fireworks together. Christmas was amazing too because he met your family and you got to meet his family too. Once you moved in together you spent all your time together. The sex with Tom was mind-blowing. He was a pleaser and giver. Even though he loved receiving he also loved to go down on you. Pleasing you and making you cum was his priority as well as making sure you were dehydrated. Tom could do this special thing with his tongue that drove you crazy. Giving you endless orgasms and making love anywhere and everywhere drove him crazy in the best ways and he was madly head over heels in love with you. He'd love it when you'd get manicures especially when you painted your nails red it turned him on so much and he loved looking at your nails finding them sexy. Of course, Tom was the most loyal and trustworthy man there was. One day you found out you were pregnant. Tom took you to all of your hospital check-ups and soon you found out you were pregnant with twins. Soon you found out the twins were a girl and a boy. Tom loved to rub your pregnant belly and you were both overjoyed by this news. It was magical and wonderful. It was the best news ever. The pregnancy went well without complications. Pregnant sex for you was bearable because Tom massaged your belly and talked to your stomach waiting on you hand and foot. The twin's room was painted half blue and half pink. In the delivery room, Tom held onto your hand letting you squeeze his hand as hard as it hurt. Soon your beautiful babies were born safe and healthy it was truly a miracle. Tom proposed because he wanted to not because of the babies and you were engaged with the most beautiful engagement rings. You were married with your close family and friends in attendance in Dublin, Ireland. Your honeymoon was in Italy and it was the most romantic trip of your life followed by some time in Paris, France. You were able to move into a bigger place together eventually and give the twins a better life on the coast by the ocean in London. And so you lived there going to the beach every day making sand castles with your precious twins. Cookies And Cream had a litter of kittens and you kept three (2 girls and a boy) naming them Maddie, Snickers, and Cutie Pie. Eventually, you adopted a golden retriever puppy named Daisy. The cats and Daisy got along so well and the kids loved her too. Your life with Tom was nothing short of a whirlwind romance and every day was filled with so much love.

tag list: @jadeylovesmarvelxo @ali-r3n @somethingvicked @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @eddiemunsonfuxks @rowanswriting @edsbug @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @emsgoodthinkin @seatnights @corrodedcorpses @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @zestychili @stolen-in-moonlight @hellv1ra @lovemesomeeddiemunson @m0llygunn @emma-munson @prettyboyeddiemunson @dollalicia

[sheikh-sayeed]

The Importance of Madīnah al-Munawwarah

Qadī Iyad (d. 544) said:

"Among the ways to magnify and honor prophet ﷺ is to magnify all his causes and to honor his sites and places, from Makkah and Madīnah, and his institutions, and what he touched ﷺ, or is known by.

Imam Mālik رَحِمَه اللَّه would not ride an animal in Madīnah and he used to say: "I am shy before Allah to tread on the soil where the Messenger of Allāh ﷺ, is with the hoof of an animal" and it is narrated about him that he gave Imam Shafi'i many horses and mules that he had, and Imam Shafi'i said: "Keep for yourself an animal from them" So he responded to him with a similar answer.

and Imam Mālik issued a fatwa that whoever said the soil of Madīnah is bad should be beaten thirty lashes and ordered to be imprisoned, as he had a high status. He said: "How deserving he is of having his neck struck: the soil in which the Prophet ﷺ, was buried, he claims is not good!"

Az-Zāhid who was among the brave archers, that he said: "I have not touched the bow with my hand except in a state of purity since I learned that the Prophet ﷺ, took the bow with his hand."

And the cap [qālansuwa] of Khalid Ibn al-Walid had some hairs from the hair of the Prophet, His cap fell during one of his battles, and he made a fierce effort to retrieve it, which the companions of the Prophet ﷺ criticized because of the many who were killed in it. He said: "I did not do it because of the cap, but because of what it contained of his hair ﷺ so that I would not be deprived of its blessing and it would not fall into the hands of the disbelievers."

And in the Sahih, it is said that the Prophet ﷺ said about Madīnah: "Whoever commits a crime in it or shelters a criminal, upon him is the curse of Allāh, the angels, and all the people; Allāh will not accept from him any compensation or justice."

After a few lines, Qadī Iyad then said: "and it is narrated that Abū al-Fadl al-Jāwharī when he visited Madīnah and approached its houses, dismounted and walked weeping, reciting: "and when we saw the trace of the one who did not leave us a heart to recognize the traces nor a mind, We dismounted from our mounts, walking in honor of the one who departed, that we might visit him as a caravan. and it is narrated from some seekers that when he looked upon the Madīnah of the Messenger ﷺ, he began saying, quoting: "The veil has been lifted for us, revealing to the observer a moon before which illusions vanish, And when the mounts brought us to Muhammad, riding on them became forbidden, They brought us near to the best of those who trod the earth So it has upon me reverence and respect." and it is narrated from some of the mashāyikh that he performed the Hajj walking, and it was said to him about that. He said: "The runaway servant comes to the house of his master riding? If I could walk on my head, I would not walk on my feet." and it is appropriate for places that were populated by revelation and the descent of divine messages, and where Jibrīl and Mīkā'īl frequented, and from where the angels and Rūh ascended, and whose courtyards were filled with sanctification and praise, and whose soil encompassed the body of the master of mankind.

From it spread the religion [dīn] of Allāh and the Sunnah of His Messenger, what spread. Schools of verses, mosques of prayers, scenes of virtues and goodness, institutes of proofs and miracles, rites of religion [dīn], landmarks of Muslims,the stands of the master of messengers, and the abode of the seal of prophets, where prophethood burst forth, and where its tide overflowed, and places that wrapped the message, and the first land whose soil touched the skin of the chosen one. That we should honor its courtyards and inhale its fragrances."

– Kītab ash-Shifā' bi-Ta'rīf Huqūq al-Muṣṭafá 17/17

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

DF Posting: KingChannels - Year 3

Here we are again. Much belated on account of me having an awful head cold for most of the past two weeks.

The beginning of the defensive layer, which, as time has gone on, has only gotten less solid. Regardless I think having room to retreat behind corners when archers come a knocking will be helpful.

We left last year with the trade depot Almost complete, and the defensive layer, starting up. Happy to say we made a lot of progress on both, but a lot happened so we'll start from the top.

Early on the elven caravan arrived; I personally have no abnormal distaste for the elves (even if selecting everything in a bin except the bin is obnoxious), but we didn't have any trade goods because I'd not decided to, you know, make any, on account of sheets being wanted next year. So we didn't really get anything, not that they brought much. Not even very many animals. Very dissapointing honestly. Didn't even get a screenshot.

Our starter library. We probably won't need it anymore after we start getting the tower constructed but that could be a while. I set a scholar to work here after I made it as well, and installed a table later on.

In the meantime we made a starter library for our scholarly pursuits to begin in earnest, rather then waiting for the tower to start construction. It's small, but it'll work. We assigned Ingish Arzesidan as scholar, our old woodcutter. She honestly loves it and is constantly getting good thoughts from debating and pondering, though these are somewhat offset by her bad thoughts from not practicing a craft. Thems the breaks. Around this time I also started making clothes from our pig tail fiber, to ensure our in fort child would have clothing. Also so anyone whose clothes rot off can get a new set.

Our first scholar.

After all that hubbub we almost immediately got a migrant wave; 9 dwarves, 2 melee dwarves for the military, and a High Master Surgeon, very nice. This reminded me we needed to make a hospital. My idea is to build it on the ground floor, likely near the cistern, hopefully out of the way of any trouble in the event anyone needs to be brought to it during combat. It'll also make getting the water from the cistern to the nearly required hospital well less of a pain in the butt.

The first two are our melee dwarves and the last is the surgeon.

Around the time of the migrant wave we got another Child Strange Mood; it finished around the time we finished sorting otu the migrant wave as Ablel Regezar only grabbed two apple wood logs. He made, adorably, a toy axe, Desiszisang. During the course of this year I caught several dwarf children playing with it so at least it's getting use!

The fort's most popular toy. And... only toy, now that I'm thinking about it.

Of note; all this happened in Early Spring. This was a very rapid fire series of events, but things slow down a bit henceforth. Not before finding a mysterious vomit trail from the trade depot to the first floor of the fortress entrance. Probably a dwarf that'd been underground long enough to get cave adapted. I didn't see any sign of combat, anyway, so it's not an injury at least. Regardless the fort now has its first streak of green mess. There will be many more.

Every fort, by the end of the run, is usually just covered in blood and puke. This is small potatoes.

Taking up the next large swathe of time was mostly me digging to find ores, rather then for fortress construction, with the completion of a stockpile I was digging near the metal processing area to store ore and coal. During this time I'd noticed unhappy dwarves were looking pretty intimidating, I think it hit a high of 16 which is more then a third of our fort. You've gotta nip this in the bud so in a mostly ineffectual attempt to do that I made some meals. Mostly quarry bush leaves, but higher food quality = happier dwarf. Unfortunately we don't really have a lot of edible wildlife, I've only seen ravens and they're too small to butcher and a pain to catch besides. Maybe one day we'll be eating raven eggs, but it seems like a bit too much trouble for now.

all of my mining floors start like this. I want people to be able to move through them well in the event I use them for something more important then burial site.

We hit Lignite and Iron shortly below where I started digging exploratorily. Very good sign; if we can find flux we've got steel, which is fantastic. That'll handily take care of most of our fortress defense needs, at least as far as we can hope for. We also found kaolinite which will make us some high quality ceramic stuff when I set it up. I also intend to use the exploratory digging tunnels for most of our burial slabs; it just feels appropriate to me.

During all this, the work on the defensive layer was moving along. The windows on the left are Gem windows, and we'll be layering some fortifications over hte front of them to ensure noone just breaks in through those windows. Eventually patrols or watch animals will keep an eye out through there to let us know when goblins or kobolds are skulking around. Hopefully, anyway.

It was around this time I realized my military squads had Never Stopped Training. I looked into a bit of stuff regarding the new UI and it turns out they've been on manual training, never stop mode, for like a year now. That's probably why everyone's so pissed off. I fix that and indeed the bad moods at the fort start dropping, thankfully. THe summer migrant wave also hit, 8 dwarves. A high master metalcrafter, a high master furnace operator, and a middling papermaker. Normally the papermaker would be on hauling duty, but given we're making a library... hmm. Two randos from the wave got drafted into our military squad making an even 10. Training can Really start now. Especially now that they're doing advanced training and teaching and sparring and such. They don't do that on manual evidently.

Once more, oru new Local Celebrities. I also assigned another dwarf to scholarship around this time I believe; Kadol Usenvabok. We'll probably worry more about the scholars when the tower goes up because if I keep posting dwarf thoughts we're gonna hit the image cap.

Seconds after this migrant wave the high master metalcrafter enters a secretive mood. Looks like we're getting a legendary metalcrafter. Honestly sort've stinks; he was allmost there anyway. Regardless, he goes to work. After some livestock butchery, he makes an Artifact Silver Chain out of Horse Leather, Chert Blocks, a Silver Bar, and cut bloodstones. Pretty nice sounding, and we can definitely find a use for it somewhere. Probably put it in a well, but maybe we can find some sort've novel use for it in the tower. It Is silver after all.

Pretty Good.

As we moved into autumn, I realized we were running out of food for some reason. Had the realization we weren't growing any plump helmets in autumn for some reason, so I fixed that. Also set about to making another still, as the population was getting quite hefty and a single still probably wouldn't be cutting it for much longer. As time went on it stabilized, and later in the year restocked itself so we're good again. Crisis Averted.

Shortly before the caravan arrived there were officially enough farmers in the fort to qualify for a farmer's guild. I immediately set about making one of the rooms I Dug out for specifically this purpose into a farmer's guild, and everyone was happy about it. Farmer dwarves will talk about farming in there, along with just generally socializing. It'll slowly increase their skills in various farming aptitudes. It's great.

The Dwarven caravan arrives annnnnd I forgot to make trade goods. God damn. I quickly hammer out some rock rings and buy some iron bars, using them to make a weapon for the militia. Need stuff sooner then later, and we're not exactly short on iron. The liason requested Amulets, which is great for us and I Immediately set on that to avoid this problem next year. I make our standard selection of military grade metals and silver.

Around this time enough work on the cistern got done for me to be comfortable draining the pond, finally. I wanted to get constructed stuff in there sooner rather then later because... I like constructed stuff. No dirty hole water here.

the top floor hadn't been walled in yet but I did take care of that over the rest of the year.

I love a bit of fluid mechanics in DF so this excited me. I've actually not done a lot of it, but I love the concept. We'll probably need another pool or two before it'll have enough loaded in to make its way to the hospital well, but it rains all the time here, so it shouldn't be too long. Since we've got enough standing water in the cistern too (about a full z level), we can just dump in whatever we can get and it'll be stored too, so that's nice.

Anyway the autumn migrant wave hits annnnnnd we got two dwarves. I forgot I had the migrant cap lowered to a pitiful 50 due to a previous fort I ran, so that's my bad, Yet Again. I raise it to 100. The two dwarves were not notable in any way. I also assign a scribe to our library to copy the books we do have.

As we trundle on towards winter, a child is posessed, which has become a commonplace enough occurrence that I honestly wasn't particularly interested. More livestock died to feed the leather requirement, and he got wood, bones and leather.

Before he finished his artifact, however, a werehare broke into the depot. He immediately bites down on Logem Urvaddatan, our freshly recruited high master surgeon, and shakes him to bits.

So much for that hospital. KingChannelses first fatality. Brutal.

There were two militadwarves nearby at the time so they immediately set to attacking the werehare (with picks?? why do you people have picks equipped you're not miners), and he goes down pretty unceremoniously, being an unarmored, roughly human size, enemy.

During the scuffle however, a militadwarf was bitten. This means they are now a werehare, and they Will be hostile to their fellow dwarves when they turn.

The bitten militiadwarf on the left, Iden Eshtanmubun and more competent combat on the right.

Me, not willing to create isolation chambers for bitten dwarves, and not wanting to have to deal with this guy popping off every quarter of a year, elect to banish him. Iden Eshtanmubun has no family in the fort, so nobody is going with him. He's upset, but what's he gonna do, come back as a werehare to take revenge? Hopefully not. He was actually also a aprt of the wave the surgeon came in on, so I guess the wave was just cursed. We'll have to keep an eye on Ablel Dumatdeleth, I Suppose.

After all of the drama and our first death, the child finishes his artifact, a horse bone pick. Maybe someone will actually use it. I kind've don't care right now kid I'm sorry.

I am normally quite happy about equippable artifacts, even if they're shit, but a pick is pretty hard to equip on purpose and they all behave the same regardless of material.

After processing all this I realized our defensive layer is pretty much done, our wall is done, our trade depot is done, it's time to build that overhang. I don't think the werehare climbed in over the wall but better safe then sorry. Unfortunaetly, while trying to do this, I realize my wall is too close to the edge of the map to build an overhang. So we have to rebuild half of it. Ugh.

In the shadow of death we find.... more menial labor. As usual, I guess.

I immediately stat making another layer of the wall on the relevant sides inside the fort. We'll worry about tearing down the outside layer later. I'd rather have a wall people can climb over then no wall at all. This in and of itself takes about til the end of the season, so we'll carry on with other stuff, though the death was the last major event of the year.

Other then some boring logistical stuff (we ran out of chert I can't color coordinate until I mine more rarrrr), the rest of the year was pretty quiet. We found some Green Jade, a 20 value gem, which is Very nice, we found more iron on the living floor, while expanding it for future waves, which I mined out, and our scribe made a copy of our one book, The Way of the Path of the Moon. Or whatever. It was something like that.

As the year drew to a close, the baby born in fort grew to a child and learned to walk on his own. He is no longer at risk of being used as a shield by his mother, and they ran out into the snow and immediately got pissed off about being snowed on. Thanks kid. She can now harvest and haul stuff, so she'll be a minor help for the next.... 15 years. Frankly if we see her grow to be an adult that alone is a fantastic run.

Baby Lolor Rimtarilir, like all dwarves, immediately knows where the clothes are upon gaining locomotion. She's also pissed off because of the snow. Get in line Lolor.

Along with the baby becoming independent, our initial Scholar, Ingish, became an astronomor. He's officially studied the book about the moon's path enough to gain a title. Our mental pursuits are looking up.

A monumentous occasion given the goal of our fort. We need more eggheads. They're chopping a tree right now but rest assured they are very intelligent.

And that's that. A death, a lot of construction and a working cistern; that will continue, but we are pulling up on the end of Surface construction not involving the tower, at least, maybe another couple of years? Hopefully we'll have sterling silver production in hand by then.

Next years goals are finally get that cistern loaded up with water and giving our dwarves an indoor well, Finish The Damn Wall, and hopefully find flux and start steel production. Also hopefully we find silver. I guess if we can't find any silver on site a ceramic tower might be good. And very silly. Same color anyway. We'll see.

Until Next Year. Our fortunes rise and fall together.

[makeartnotfriends23]

Hey welcome to the blog!

I’m Art/Ru (I don’t really mind what you call me). I’m a mixed media illustrator who sometimes animates. Normally I draw my many ocs but when I feel like lashing out I do fan art!

I do a lot of sketchbook and traditional media with the occasional digital piece!

I’m really into Splatoon, the Moomins, Sky Children of the Light, Psychonauts, Gravity Falls, the Magnus Archives, Sonic and the Muppets (just to name a few)

I’m also really into the Crane Wives, Tom Rosenthal and Caravan Palace!

I really like drawing my ocs a lot so you can find out more about them under their respective hashtags :3

#Time Bash

#Phasmatronic

#Persona

Hope you enjoy your stay!!! :D

[object-vault-9]

Seeking Cameo Characters

(CLOSED - this time around )

I genuinely have no idea how many requests I get so obligatory 'no guarantee I'll fit in everyone' but I'm seeking cameos ! I took some off site too

The trader caravan spending some time with Vault 9 is a little on the larger side, and instead of designing a bunch of new one off characters, I figured it could be fun to have your guys' character's alternate universe selves come visit !

The trading company is a peaceful group ! So your characters won't be harming anyone in Vault 9 don't worry. Similarly they won't be harmed either

Guidelines:

-To submit a character just reblog this with their ref ! One submission per person, and please only submit your own characters. No canon characters from other media or other people's ocs without permission

-Has to be an object character, or maybe a clangen cat I redesign as an object of your choice, since clangen cross overs are my favorite

-Designs might be simplified to fit the world, things like limb styles, magic/animal features or accessories for example might be toned down or removed to fit my style and established world building

-It's a one off cameo, only my own characters are going to be making repeat appearances, just for simplicity. So, vault 9 has no claim to your characters that appear obviously

-If you want them to interact with any specific character feel free to suggest it but again, no guarantees

-I don't have a specified submission window, but I'll most likely have this update finished by this evening

[drunkenskunk]

One of these days, I'm going to actually learn how to play Dwarf Fortress.

I was never able to quite get into the "proper" version that you can play for free, and I've been very occasionally fucking around in the Steam version.

Specifically: there is a world I made in the first month of its release, the Realm of Enchanting. Every so often, I'll peruse the Legends mode, or use the embark screen to take billions of screenshots in an attempt to stitch together a massive fucking map of the world without ever actually creating a fortress.

I'm still trying to stitch together the zoomed in version, but I'm not sure I have the patience, attention span, or - let's be honest - disk space for a PNG that fucking enormous.

You may be asking yourself: why don't I just make a fortress in the world? Because the last time I tried to play the game "properly" I ended up wasting a literal year of game time because I forgot to hit pause while trying to figure out how farming works, barely making any progress mining into the mountain so all my dwarfs were in a barely functional communal living area, and all of the animals that came with the caravan died of exposure due to my incompetence.

All that took place in a different world save, and I'm terrified of screwing something up in this one. Like I said, I've been perusing the Legends mode, and I have become strangely invested in a lot of the characters I've been reading about.

Nevermind that the character that first caught my eye and got me going down this pseudo-wikiwalk rabbithole and which made me strangely invested in this particular world save was a necromancer, we'll just gloss over that.

I feel like I'll vibe more with Adventure Mode when it eventually comes to Steam. I'll only have one dwarf to wrangle there instead of Many, and that seems less panic attack inducing on my part.

And besides, if I understand what that game mode is actually like, Adventure Mode will let me explore the forts created by the NPCs, and that might help me figure out how to construct my own forts.

If I ever get around to figuring out how farms work.

[evolutionsvoid]

Name: Tozoku Hizogan

Title: Flintlock Crab

Species: Carapaceon

Element: None

Ailments: Blast

A carapaceon that dwells in deserts and other arid areas, the Tozoku Hizogan is a monster that is difficult to find when in hiding but impossible to ignore when it finally emerges. They spend a lot of their time buried beneath the sand, using their tall head to pop their eye stalks out from time to time to survey their surroundings. They hide themselves like this to avoid the worst of the day's heat, but also to stay hidden from stronger monsters. These carapaceons may not be the most powerful species that prowls the desert, but they are not pushovers. When they finally emerge from the sand, they do so with guns blazing. The Tozoku Hizogan sports a pair of specialized claws that are capable of creating and storing blast powder within them. When buried, the carapaceon gathers sand and small stones in these hollow claws, and uses a fast hardening secretion within to form them into spherical ammunition. When fighting, it will "load" its claws with these hardened spheres, surrounding them with internal blast powder. With a snap of its sparking dactyl, it will ignite the blast powder and shoot out these bullets. For smaller monsters, these shots can be deadly, as they pierce hide and flesh. For the larger beasts and apexes, these bullets still have a sting to them and can be enough to keep them away so the crab has time to flee. 

When hunting for food, the Tozoku Hizogan has two options. They are capable of downing their own prey, using their gun claws to riddle them with holes. They typically target smaller monsters, like apceros, using the blast of their bullets to pierce their hide and shells. However, these carapaceons have a tendency to steal their food from other monsters. They hide themselves beneath the sand, watching and listening for signs of a hunt. When another monster succeeds in bringing down its prey, the crab will be quick to take advantage of the opportunity. Having fought or chased its prey to this point, the other monster will surely be tired or distracted, which the Tozoku Hizogan capitalizes on. They will sneak close from their buried vantage point, then burst from the sand in a loud, explosive display. Their gun claws will be firing off loud shots, but in truth there is no bite to this bang. These shots will be blanks, just pockets of blast powder ignited by its dactyl to make loud noises to scare predators off their kill. Some believe their tall silhouettes also serve to make them look bigger, and thus a more imposing threat. Rushing in with its bursting claws can be enough to push the victor off their spoils, and if they don't leave, a few real shots may convince them to abandon the goods. When their loud performance gives them an opening, they grab hold of the carcass and vanish beneath the sands. Their stolen prize will be consumed down here, where others cannot easily take what they rightfully stole. 

While the Tozoku Hizogan is a loud and flashy monster when on the surface, many folk know it to be mostly show. They do not view humans or wyverians as prey, nor do they have any reason to outright attack people. However, they do often show interest in beasts of burden who haul caravans across the desert sands. A hungry Tozoku Hizogan may see them as prey, and decide to pull an attack on a trade line. In other cases, they may see hunters bringing down other monsters and decide to rob them of their victory. Bounties for this carapaceon are typically put out by traders who keep losing their animals, or frustrated hunters who keep having their kills yanked beneath the sands before they can carve.

While the Tozoku Hizogan is not a high level threat, they are still a dangerous species to hunt. Their gun claws can do serious damage to hunters, and can pack enough punch to knock back shield wielders. With their bullets, they can take out hunters from afar with precise shots, or unleash a flailing spray of ammo to force their attackers to take cover. Even if one gets up close, they aren't safe. Their claws have sharp spikes on them, and they will slice and bash hunters with these appendages if things to get too close for comfort. They may also burrow beneath the sand and fire off bursts of blast powder from below, looking to blow hunters off their feet. When they are enraged, their gun claws become even more dangerous. Their angered state makes their ammo production sloppy and rushed, which results in bullets that are poorly held together and infused with blast powder. This results in explosive rounds and wide sprays of shrapnel, as the agitated crab fires wildly at foes. Flash bombs are advised for the fight, to ruin their aim but to also flush them from their burrowed state when their eye stalks are exposed. Pitfall traps should be avoided, as their flailing about to get free results in wild shots that can pick off hunters who blindly rush in to take advantage.

------------------------------------------------

I have done fan monsters before for MH, but they were all Piscine Wyverns! Nothing but Piscines! Seems a bit odd to just focus purely on one monster class. So lets do that with carapaceons now! Nothing but crabs! YEEEEEESSS CRAAAAAAABS! It's high tide, cowboy! Yeehaw!

[soylent-crocodile]

Animal Conversions- Tyrannosaurus

(Art by Mark Witton)

(The t. rex is statted out as a bite-and-swallower, which is a very humanoid-centric way to view a hunter of huge game. Ive built it as a pugilist, targeting and attacking other big monsters, and given it high constitution of its bulk and endurance. I also included juveniles- ontogenetic niche shifting is something Pathfinder, with its Young Templates and mathematically scaling dragons, is kinda alien to- except for full-on metamorphosis, of course.)

Tyrannosaurus are the most famous of dinosaurs, great predators who go toe-to-toe with other behemoths to get their daily bread; their power and combative excellence makes them as beloved as they are feared. Tyrannosaurs change their behavior and shape as they grow, occupying different niches (and different threats) as juveniles, compared to as adults.

Adult t. rex are rarely a threat to medium-sized creatures such as humanoids; such people are simply too small to be worth the effort of chasing down and eating. Giants, however, are threatened by these great hunters, and caravans using large animals such as elephants are also prime targets for tyrannosaurus attack. Tyrannosaurus are notoriously adept trackers and persistence predators; there are many tales of one slowly following a caravan, waiting for the people and animals to exhaust themselves and stop to rest so it can pick them off at its leisure. Additionally, a brooding adult will often perceive humanoids as threats to their eggs and young and kill them if spotted; however, a brooding adult often means the presence of juveniles…

Juvenile tyrannosaurus are fast agile hunters, notorious for chasing down and killing humanoids and livestock alike. In lands where tyrannosaurus roam, great walls are built to keep juveniles out, and the fittest young adults are often trained to hunt them. 

The typical bounty for a slain juvenile tyrannsaurus is 1,500gp, although it varies based on severity of the issue and resources of the populace. 

The skull of an adult tyrannosaurus is a status symbol for the wealthy and danger-loving; intact and undamaged, it is worth 4,000gp. 

Dinosaur, Tyrannosaurus (Adult)

This colossal beast walks on two muscular legs and gives you a passing glance, its eyes two dots in a powerful set of jaws.

Misc- CR9 TN Gargantuan Animal HD15 Init:-3 Senses: Perception:+15 Low-Light Vision, Scent Aura:  Stats- Str:32(+11) Dex:4(-3) Con:25(+7) Int:2(-4) Wis:17(+3) Cha:16(+3) BAB:+11 Space:20ft Reach:15ft Defense- HP:172(15d8+105) AC:19(-3 Dex, -3 Size, +15 Natural) Fort:+17 Ref:+6 Will:+10 CMD:33  Offense- Bite +20(4d6+16) CMB:+26 Speed:40ft Special Attacks: Crushing Bite Feats- Endurance, Power Attack (-4/+8), Diehard, Weapon Focus (Bite), Iron Will, Improved Initiative, Intimidating Prowess, Vital Strike Skills- Intimidate +17, Perception +15 (+4 Racial bonus to Perception) Special Qualities- Gianthunter Ecology- Environment- Languages- None Organization- Solitary, Pair, Family (2 Adults, 3 1 Juvenile, 1 Young Juvenile) Treasure- None Special Abilities- Crushing Bite (Ex)- A creature dealt damage by a tyrannosaurus’ bite attack must make a DC18 Fortitude save or be staggered for 1 minute. Gianthunter (Ex)- A tyrannousaurus gets a +4 racial bonus to attack rolls made against Huge or larger creatures and to AC against such creatures’ attacks. 

Dinosaur, Tyrannosaurus (Juvenile)

A slender, feathered creature taller than a horse stalks ahead, eyes sharp and hungry.

Misc- CR7 Huge TN Animal HD10 Init:+7 Senses: Perception:+11, Scent, Low-Light Vision Stats- Str:28(+9) Dex:16(+3) Con:24(+7) Int:2(-4) Wis:13(+1) Cha:14(+2) BAB:+7 Space:15ft Reach:10ft Defense- HP:76(7d8+45) AC:21 (-2 Size, +3 Dex, +10 Natural) Fort:+12 Ref:+10 Will:+4 CMD:31 (26 vs Trip) Weakness: Vulnerable to Trip Offense- Bite +14(2d8+13) CMB:+18 Speed:50ft Special Attacks: Preydrivers Feats- Endurance, Intimidating Prowess, Improved Initiative, Power Attack (-3/+6) Skills- Intimidate +12, Stealth +5, Perception +11 (+4 racial bonus to Stealth and Perception) Ecology- Environment- Grassland, Forest (Hot) Languages- None Organization- Solitary, Bachelor Group (2-4) Treasure- None Special Abilities-Preydrivers (Ex)- Juvenile tyrannosaurus often take part in cooperative hunts with adults, where they frighten and distract prey for the adults to capture. At the end of a charge, before making an attack roll, a juvenile tyrannosaurus may make an intimidate check to demoralize against each creature within 60ft of it. Vulnerable to Trip (Ex)- A juvenile tyrannosaurus’ legs are long and slender, but fragile and catch easily. Treat their size as Large for the purpose of trip attempts and takes a -5 penalty to CMD against trip attempts. Additionally, a tripped juvenile tyrannosaurus has a 10% chance to break its leg, reducing its land speed to 10ft and almost invariably leading to starvation in the wild.

[warsofasoiaf]

Per your request: Godfrey character analysis please?

There's a lot to Godfrey, which is almost confusing given that he swoops in almost out of nowhere after your Tarnished has done all the hard work of collecting the pieces of the Shattered Elden Ring, burning the Erdtree, and releasing Destined Death in combat with Maliketh. The game almost encourages you to fight him down before he swoops in to steal your hard-earned victory right from under you. But Godfrey is far more complex than that, and if you include cut content, he ends up being one of the principal architects behind Marika's scheme.

The Lands Between was not simply an empty land waiting for Marika and the Erdtree. There were rival gods with their own rival orders that Marika had to conquer. Well before the Golden Order, the Erdtree was wild and chaotic, and everything was in opposition to the new way of being. Marika took a fierce barbarian chieftain, Hoarah Loux, whose bloodlust and ferocity knew no equal. As a chieftain, Hoarah desired nothing more than to fight and destroy, and fought with overwhelming strength and beast-like cunning. While we do not know what exactly led Marika or Hoarah Loux to be fine with the arrangement, since everything was in opposition to the Erdtree, it was a perfect place for someone who wanted a never-ending series of battles to fight. He was crowned as King Godfrey, and his axe tells us that knew his own truth, "that a crown was warranted with strength." Through countless victories, Godfrey and Marika turned the Erdtree into the embodiment of Order - far from the wild primeval current that it started out as, where the dew and blessings thereof flowed freely.

As warlord for the Golden Order, the newly-minted King Godfrey restrained his bloodlust but kept up his aggressive campaign of expansion. He sired a son upon Marika, named Godwyn, the Golden, first of the demigods. He turned to the north, to where the Fire Giants kept their Flame of Ruin and worshipped a rival god, the One-Eyed Fell God. Marika had her own rival churches built in her wake, and on the evening of the campaign against the Fire Giants, she implored Godfrey and his warriors, which included allies like the Crucible Warriors, the icy warriors of Zamor, and turncoat lesser giants called trolls.

In game, trolls are hulking brutes typically used as dumb labor (except in Liurnia) with literal swords driven through them as draft animals for caravan pulling, but aside from being an early game headache, they're also full of lore. Their exposed viscera is not a mere visual design choice, it's meant as a comparison to the Last Fire Giant who has the eye of the Fell God on his chest. By cutting it out, they turned their backs on their god and fell in with the Golden Order. In true FromSoft fashion, we're left to speculate why they would make such a radical choice. Their minds are gone, and although it's not said why, the fact that the trolls mutilated themselves to turn away from their god (a wound that doesn't heal), it's not hard to see why. Following Godfrey's victory, Marika kills the Fire Giants save one, and forces him to be the tender of the Flame of Ruin. He still maintains a connection to his god, but he guards his fire relentlessly. Perhaps, like Hewg, Marika's supreme presence (and the failure of his own god) so impressed upon him that he becomes devoted to his mission to the point of losing all sense.

While ceaseless battle suited Hoarah Loux, an Elden Lord to a god and the champion of a Golden Order required more than just might. To suppress the bloodlust that consumed him, he bound that part of himself within a spiritual councilor, Serosh, the beast. Beasts were known to be drawn to lords (and prospective lords, like Bernahl). In many ways, Serosh is a model for early civilization, a transition from tribal belief to civilized life, requiring a command of agriculture enough to build a population surplus. This requires more than warring with the world for daily sustenance, hence, the civilizing effect of agriculture and scientific development mirror Godfrey binding his bloodlust to become a lord.

After his victory, we can chart a rough path of Godfrey's expansion via the numbered Churches of Marika. The First Church is in the Mountaintop of the Giants, then they head west to the Altus Plateau, suggesting that this is when they started to build up the capital city of Leyendell, to create a grand splendor and dispose of the Omens beneath. The Third Church is in the east of Limgrave, suggesting that this is when Godfrey faced the Last Storm Lord in Stormveil Castle in single combat. After that, the Fourth Church of Marika shows that his trek led him to the Weeping Peninsula, where a lone hero seeking vengeance fights Godfrey, only to fall at his hand. Vengeance is one thing, but a crown is only warranted with strength.

After there were no more worlds to conquer, Godfrey wept like Alexander for there were no more worlds to conquer. As they returned from Castle Morne, they were stripped of grace and became Tarnished, exiled from the Lands Between. Where this happened is a mystery. The actual echoes are heard in the Third Church of Marika, but the command continues in the Church of Pilgrimage, where they are commanded to fight, die, and after death, return to the Lands Between. This seems heartless (and in fairness, Marika has her moments of brutality and callousness), but in cut content, we see that at some point, Marika desired to overthrow the Golden Order. She tasked Hewg with designing a weapon that could slay a god (presumably the Elden Beast, as opposed to herself), and she tasked her demigod children to grow strong or be forgotten. Given that some of them pursued paths directly in opposition to the Golden Order, there is a strong suggestion that she knew what was going on and hoped for someone to become mighty enough to slay the Elden Beast. In a cut dialogue, she shares her plan with Godfrey, and he in turn seeks to help her, to become mighty and be granted audience once more. And so Godfrey left, becoming Hoarah Loux once more, fighting until his axe broke and his body was crucified, dying in a nameless world.

One of the most telling hints of how far you've come in the game is in his introductory cutscene. After Morgott fades, the faint hint of grace can be seen in the background. This has been your constant companion, pointing the way to the next objectives. Yet if you see the pattern in the spectacles, it's coming off of Godfrey, and toward you. In Marika's scheme, Godfrey's next task is to go through you, to assert his claim, as "a crown is warranted with strength," and a lord can brook no rivals. In battle, Godfrey fights as a regal lord, with strong axe attacks. He cuts a majestic figure with his spectral lion and flowing blue cloak. He looks like a lord, and fights with strength, but honor. There's predictability and rigidity to Godfrey, the First Elden Lord. If you knock his health down enough, he gives pause. He realizes that his limited strength is not enough. He tears Serosh's head from his shoulders, the councilor that had advised the Golden Lineage, and becomes Hoarah Loux. And fittingly, his stance completely changes. His cloak is in tatters, and he leans forward with a bestial snarl and savage stance. He fights savagely, with big sweeps, wrestling moves, and earth stomps, drenched in blood. This is Hoarah Loux, the warrior that desired to subjugate all before him with no thought of what happens next. It takes the Tarnished's full measure to defeat him. When you do, he falls, but he acknowledges his own mantra to the end. If a crown is warranted with strength, then the superior strength of the Tarnished befits a crown.

Thanks for the question, Mistland.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King