
#dc#dc comics#batman#bruce wayne#tim drake#batfamily#dc fanart#batfam#dick grayson

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Venezuela
seen from Israel
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Netherlands
seen from South Korea
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Australia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from Georgia

seen from Canada
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
alright, I’m doing it. the “Argath Thadalfus Did Nothing Wrong” fic (also known as Sadgath). Title: On A Bed of Rusted Narcissus Fandom: Final Fantasy Tactics (War of the Lions) Warnings: Canonical Character Death Tags: Post-Canon, full list of tags in the link Wordcount: 10,578 Summary: Ramza returns to Fort Ziekden and finds that not all wounds are mended by time. Excerpt: A shade, then, Ramza thought as he used his teeth to pull the cork of the waterskin. A ghast the same as those that haunted Lake Poescas, waiting to suck the life from unwary travelers. The calabash dangling from a brass ring on the saddle held a potent mixture of herbs and fermented fruit juice that the desertmen used to deaden the pain of old injuries both of the body and the mind. He’d come to rely on it after too many years of chemist-brewed potions during the war had made the mere smell of one turn his stomach and set his heart pounding. But he wasn’t a fool: tucked away in one of his saddlebags, well wrapped with cotton for protection, was a glass bottle of the finest elixir money could buy, kept in reserve for a dire emergency. Only a few drops of it would cause all that remained of Argath Thadalfus to cease to be.
Mõtlesin jah, et ootan ära püsivama ühenduse oma korterisse, aga nüüdseks on selgunud, et sel nädalal teda kindlalt ei tule. ja elu juhtub nii palju vahepeal, et peab siis muudmoodi hakkama saama. Möödunud on seitse üksielamise päeva ja isegi kui tundub, et on vähe korda saadetud, on siiski üsna palju toimunud. Paar päeva tagasi (kui seda sissekannet alustasin..) nägin näiteks täiesti esimest korda zepeliini moodi asjandust lendamas öise Turku kohal. Väga vali ja tekitas kohe välismaa-tunde. Aga. Igatahes.
2. jaanuaril hakkasime 6:52 laevaga liikuma (jah, väljumisaeg oli märgitud kella seitsmeks, ma ei tea, mis värk sellega on), laevutasime kolm vaid-paar-tundi-maganud Mildebergi üle Soome lahe ning leidsime end lumisest Helsingist. Isa sai sõbra Teppoga kokku, me Saaraga käisime Amos Rexis Bill Viola näitust vaatamas (üsna hea, aga eraldi selleks Soome ei sõidaks..).
Kell 13 võtsime suuna Turku peale. Veider oli istuda oma järgmise viie kuu kompsude seas, aga talvine Soome maastik võttis koos Jüri kaasatehtud võileibadega tähelepanu endale. Kuulasime klassikalist muusikat ja vahepeal tegime Saaraga uinakud.
20 minutit enne nelja jõudsime kohale. Olin naabri ja võtmevalvuri Marjaga leppinud võtmete üleandmise neljaks, kuid kuna ta oli niikuinii kodus, saime pärast kõikide kompsude seitsmendale transportimist juba poole viie paiku alustada sõitu Raisiosse, kus öö veetsime. Läksin ka kaasa, sest hotelli hommikusöök on seda väärt :D ikkagi #peregareisil. Vaatasime telerit ja tegime nalja.
Kummaline jah oma terve elu kokkupakkimist korraga näha:
Ahjaa, õhtul sõitsime korra Turu peal ka ringi. Toomkirik on siin imeline, vist üks suurimaid, mida näinud olen! (tuleb veel pilte)
Pärast hommikusöögile järgnenud uinakut sõidutati mind mu uude koju ning jäin üksi asju lahti pakkima. Eks oli ikka kurb ka, aga ka kuidagi kerge. Sain asjad lahti pakkida oma äranägemise järgi ning sain üsna koheselt aru, et mul polegi siin wifit! Kirjutasin eelmisele (ja tulevasele - olen allüürnik) elanikule ja ta vastas, et kasutab ise mobiilset netti. ahah. ohoh. See läks mul facebooki kommuunides ringi sobrades lõpuks meelest kuulutustes järgi vaadata: pidasin tähtsamaks ruutmeetreid, asukohta ja muid eluks tarvilikke majapidamise faktoreid... Egas midagi, nüüd pean veel ühe asjaga tegelema :D (sellest interneti asjast saab ka täitsa eraldi postituse teha...)
Kuna internetti on vähe, lõigutan seda blogi läbi mitme päeva.
Mis kõige peamisem: elus olen! ja väga mõnus on! Küll mul see kirjutamistuhin ka peale tuleb.
aa ja videosid on ka veidi keerulisem postitada. no vaatab.
So long as we’re on the subject of Aerith...
“Such is the nature of fate, Ramza! That commoner and his sister ought never have been here at all! Had they been mongering flowers on some street corner, she would yet live.“
“Few stop these days, and even fewer buy.”
“Seems to me as you’d earn a lot more selling that tinder-box o’ yours than them flowers!”
This whole sequence is pretty vicious in retrospect. What better sign of Algus/Argath’s class privilege?
Aerith is only saved here because of Cloud’s appearance, a supernatural, near-divine impossibility. Her fate, like no doubt so many in Sal Ghidos, was to suffer outrageous misfortune. And Algus/Argath considers this a viable alternative for Delita and Tietra, their appointed station, suggests it would be “safer” for them if they only minded their place.
Ivalice, like our own world, is not safe for the poor and oppressed. Those who suggest “nobility” in maintaining a status quo and fulfilling a class role always speak in terms of maintaining a superiority--and nearly always a fragile one, at that, for Algus/Argath’s hold on his station is very fragile indeed.
“Honest work would see them die old in bed, yet they choose instead this early grave. Why persist in such folly?”
Ramza, of course, is no different at the story’s onset. Chapter one is quite blatant about checking his privilege. No matter how many terrible men profess their love for Final Fantasy Tactics, the game (even with its flaws) was always about the sort of things that would get it tagged “SJW” in today’s gaming climate.
- merisiga
Wherever you are is the entry point.
Kabīr
Projekt Mina
2021-02-08
Kurk on kähe ja kõht on ees
tänasest normist täidetud vaid kaks
villased sokid on soojad ja head
ning ma tegelt ei olegi ju nõnna paks
võtangi peegli ja vaatangi end
lehvitan vastu ja naeratan endal
DAY 1
lubadus 1
nädal ilma magusata peale jäätise ja puuviljade
**********************************************
The Professor (2018) oli täitse muhe film ja sobis täitsa edukalt lõpuks algust tegema sellega, mis mõni hetk juba meelel olnud.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3 2 1 0 ... stardipauk sai antud, Järgmine peatus teisipäev.
Sulen turvavöö ja proovin leida ülesse käigukangi.
AITÄH! :)
Location Intro
Sorry, I'm obsessed with worldbuilding. And I've been working hard and doing lots of research. Here's a little about where Brenna is from!
Algus Grove
"The sickness struck a nearby tribe, and he knew it to be only a matter of time before it spread to his own kin, if it hadn't already. The North was a land of nomads, back then, and the tribes would tuck their tails and run at the first sign of trouble. Kept them alive. Kept them safe. But Algus... well, he and Aust were never the type to run. Too much Riverground in their blood."
Algus Grove, commonly referred to simply as Algus, is the first and largest of the stoptowns that cropped up in the North during the Second Sickness. Tucked beneath thick trees, the city resembles an old patched coat, as the residents repaired and made permanent structures that were once meant to be only temporary. Though small farms dot treeless clearings on the outskirts of town, Algus doesn't dabble much on farming and instead focuses on the domestication of the wild animals found in the surrounding woods. Those that herd the enormous reindeer are the most esteemed of the handlers.
As many in the north are still nomadic, the small market of six shops sees plenty of business, mostly in trade but also occasionally with the coins from Riverground folk. The non-merchant residents would be hard pressed to accept such payment, as few tend to travel outside the town, rendering the metals next to worthless for most services.
To northerners, those in the city are pompously comfortable. To southerners, they are uneducated and dirty.
But they see themselves as proud and safe.
And for a time, they were.