From the Nashville Zoo’s fb page! Here’s the petition, please please please take a moment to add your name (even if you’re not from Nashville!). If you are from Tennessee, contact your representatives and make it clear that the people do not want this data center. This is an AZA accredited zoo which is home to several species of critically endangered animals, we NEED to protect it. Make your voice heard!
It’s not widely known information, but they made their staff themselves.
It’s not widely known information, but they made their staff themselves.
When they first left the palace, cloaked in darkness and ushered through by the mercenary they hired to get them out of Avalon, there was a big amaranth tree, felled down by the perpetual storm that rained down on the palace grounds. One big branch had split away from what remained of the trunk, still somewhat intact, and even through the curtain of rainfall, something called them to it. They'd left their crown and jewels behind, all of the fine clothing they'd grown up in, all their books, every single remnant of home except for Andu, and their own wings. Too risky, to take anything so closely related to the soon-to-be-thought-dead princess, too high a possibility to be found out. And they did not regret leaving, no, of course not! There was nothing here for them, not anymore, if ever.
But.
Well, they figured, they were bound to get homesick, sometimes. It wouldn’t hurt to have something from here, and it’s not like anyone would miss a branch. Besides, they had a Bag of Holding, it’s not like it would be difficult to carry the branch, and it wouldn’t be taking any space.
In the first few months into Gaia, full of excitement and wonder and brimming with power, they realized they needed a weapon. They were unfamiliar with the dangers of this plane, but they knew enough to realize they’d need some way to channel the power that Leviathan poured into their veins. So for weeks, at night, they’d sit down by the light of a campfire and whittle down the branch, little by little. The Dragon figurehead took some trial and error, and it more closely resembled depictions of Cassiopeia or even Ur than Leviathan, but it looked properly Dragon-like, and the purple undertones of the wood looked very nice with it, once the whittling revealed them. By the time they’d deemed it finished, they were quite proud of the final product, and the ambient magic of Avalon meant that it could channel a mean Eldritch Blast indeed.
It worked like a dream, too. No matter how many battles they fought, the staff remained steady in their hand. Reliable, despite the inexperienced craftsmanship. With time, the wood seemed to shift colors, the eyes of the figurehead slowly gaining a soft glow. Their own magic was infusing the wood, they realized; the staff was, truly, an extension of them as a person. Following them no matter where they went, always at hand against any foe.
Until even that wasn’t enough. Until there was a battle they couldn’t win. Until it was never wielded again.
Funny how now, years later, it ended up as a coat rack, passing by unnoticed by most patrons of the tavern. Even... Even Quasar, the singular time he visited, only passed his eyes over it briefly, choosing to focus his heavy attention on the Innkeeper, themselves, not on the lovingly crafted weapon, gathering dust in the corner.
He didn’t spare a look for Aurawra, either. The weight of that scarlet gaze, which they once came to love, rested squarely on the Innkeeper, cold as ice.
I can’t believe there are people in this world who find ‘ambitious’ people attractive. If I was on a first date and the person I was talking to was like “Yeah, I’m an entrepreneur. It’s my dream to be a billionaire.” or “I plan to climb the corporation ladder to the top.” I’d be like ‘Ew, that’s disgusting.’ that is a terrible goal for a life partner to have.
Thank you for articulating this because I think people were misunderstanding the post! There is a difference between having a passion and wanting to get to the top just so you can look down.
Being a weird little girl as a kid provides two options to you: becoming transgender or becoming a weird adult woman. Both of which are things the world needs more of
He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.
Never let it be said that Rune didn’t fall into Fae stereotypes.
He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.
Never let it be said that Rune didn’t fall into Fae stereotypes.
They’ve always had a fascination with flowers, ever since they were a child. The Heliotrope Princess, they were called - or Prince, depending on their inclinations that particular day - , partially for the general coloration they tend to prefer, but mostly for their love of flowers, especially the deadly poison ones. Even now, centuries later and traversing through an entirely different plane, they carry around books on flower language and meaning - and how unexpected that, of all cultural norms from Avalon, this of all things should bleed out into Gaia.
He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.
Rune likes flowers, they all know this, so no one bats an eye when, during their downtime, while Aegeus is whipping up dinner from whatever Delphi managed to hunt and some of the herbs Rune and Kya gathered up early, Rune sits down and plays with a bunch of flowers. Often they make flower crowns, which they plop on everyone’s head, to the delight of most party members.
(who, thankfully, haven’t yet picked up on the meanings. Kya does look at them funny at the crown of yellow pansies, purple asters and pink camelias they plop onto Quasar’s head, much to his embarrassment, but if she is fluent in the language, she has yet to say something. Whatever, she’s not blind, and Rune is astonishingly bad at hiding it.)
Other times, they bunch the plants in little fragrant bouquets, which they tie upside down on their pack or even their staff, to dry. Lavender and roses and pansies and a lot of herbs, as well, all trailing sweet aromas behind so that Rune smells like an apothecary, most of the time. Quite often, they break plants apart into components, for drying or boiling or extracting oils, and that’s where the poisons come into place, Belladona and Nightshade and Foxgloves all carefully treated and stored, away from everyone for safety. Spell and potion ingredients are not spared, either; Rune knows the Tavernkeep at the Drowsy Dragon mixes their own potions most of the time, and by the Dragons if they’re not going to figure out how themself.
And sometimes, when something happens, when Quasar smiles at them with eyes bright and full of enthusiasm, or a particularly well-executed Eldritch Blast goes off without a hitch and gets them a tight, armored hug. Or when an argument gets a bit out of hand, or Rune says something that draws another frown over those sparkling magenta eyes. Whenever something happens, that makes Rune stop and startle for a bit, they sit with Andu, a little ways off the camp, and gets one of the flowers they’ve collected throughout the day, and they start pulling petals.
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.
Give me the burden, give me the blame (I’ll shoulder the load, and I′ll swallow the shame) - Chapter 1
Fandom: Tavern Talk (Visual Novel)
Pairing: Quasar Duskbringer/Innkeeper
Chapter title:
But we are the ones who don't slow down at all/And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall
AO3 link
---
You are Rune. You are at the tavern with your party, which has traveled with you for over a year at this point. Kya and Delphi and Aegeus and Cain. And Quasar. You are Rune, you are at the tavern, drink in your hand, and you look at him, and you know. You love him.
You’re in a tavern with a beautiful boy, and you want to tell him that you love him, but you won’t. Because you can’t, because you love him, but he won’t believe you, he never does, and how could he ever? So you don’t.
You are the Innkeeper. You are in a tavern with a dangerous man, and he looks at you with red eyes full of contempt, and you love him. You’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he doesn’t reach for you. He is asking you a question but it isn’t a question that you want to answer. You have to answer. You have to choose.
The best part of that video is that the owner found the ORIGINAL plush later on the beach and took another video with it after their grandmother stitched it back up
it’s a shame more vampire media doesn’t pull from vampire bat behavior because they’re such sweeties. they can only survive their incredibly specialized diet because bats will share blood with colony members that didn’t find a meal! there’s evidence that suggests the donors sometimes initiate this behavior themselves by approaching hungry bats! the colonies are mostly harems of females with a few males but they’ve been observed letting unrelated males in when it gets cold so they can all stay warm! cute little social critters!
Congrats to every reply like this for failing to understand the fundamental definition of an accent. Of course you think you sound normal! It's the way you speak!
Give me the burden, give me the blame (I’ll shoulder the load, and I′ll swallow the shame) - Chapter 1
Fandom: Tavern Talk (Visual Novel)
Pairing: Quasar Duskbringer/Innkeeper
Chapter title:
But we are the ones who don't slow down at all/And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall
AO3 link
---
You are Rune. You are at the tavern with your party, which has traveled with you for over a year at this point. Kya and Delphi and Aegeus and Cain. And Quasar. You are Rune, you are at the tavern, drink in your hand, and you look at him, and you know. You love him.
You’re in a tavern with a beautiful boy, and you want to tell him that you love him, but you won’t. Because you can’t, because you love him, but he won’t believe you, he never does, and how could he ever? So you don’t.
You are the Innkeeper. You are in a tavern with a dangerous man, and he looks at you with red eyes full of contempt, and you love him. You’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he doesn’t reach for you. He is asking you a question but it isn’t a question that you want to answer. You have to answer. You have to choose.
Guys if you want queer shit written by queers on our own terms you're going to have to start seeking out weird independent media. I'm sorry that's the only place you can regularly find it idk what to tell you, we can't keep acting like there's nothing if we're not getting blockbusters and triple A titles or whatever it is we're waiting around for. The thing you keep saying you want is already being offered for free by one person making a passion project on the internet and you would both benefit enormously if you interacted with it instead of lamenting that the only options we have for representation are pandering afterthoughts from corporate shit
I say this with so, so much care: Real queer shit written by real queers can and will sometimes make you uncomfortable. That's one of the defining features of weird, independent queer media. And weird independent media more broadly. Art that comes from true individual passion and authenticity has edges and bite to it that mass market corporate products intentionally do not. Has a rawness that can offend.
You are allowed to feel uncomfortable about it. But don't ask for queers to self censor for your comfort.
Give me the burden, give me the blame (I’ll shoulder the load, and I′ll swallow the shame) - Chapter 1
Fandom: Tavern Talk (Visual Novel)
Pairing: Quasar Duskbringer/Innkeeper
Chapter title:
But we are the ones who don't slow down at all/And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall
AO3 link
---
You are Rune. You are at the tavern with your party, which has traveled with you for over a year at this point. Kya and Delphi and Aegeus and Cain. And Quasar. You are Rune, you are at the tavern, drink in your hand, and you look at him, and you know. You love him.
You’re in a tavern with a beautiful boy, and you want to tell him that you love him, but you won’t. Because you can’t, because you love him, but he won’t believe you, he never does, and how could he ever? So you don’t.
You are the Innkeeper. You are in a tavern with a dangerous man, and he looks at you with red eyes full of contempt, and you love him. You’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he doesn’t reach for you. He is asking you a question but it isn’t a question that you want to answer. You have to answer. You have to choose.
blakekathryn
stormborns
vaporwave
titsay
kaledo-art
