all the mead

A pretty, full-faced, youthful, playfull lass. —The family quakers, meek and unsuspicious. —Hamilton, thou shalt not tread on this ground —I mark it for my own. Enter not this circle.
— 

Diary of James McHenry June 20th, 1778

I have been laughing at this entry for a solid five minutes now.

Healing Hands (Part 2)

Ivar x Reader
Healing Hands: Part 2 of 2. 8,341 words.
Here’s Part 1 for anyone that missed it.
Warnings: A little angst, a lotta smut. I wouldn’t read this at work ;)
Wow guys, I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to finish this update! I really didn’t mean to keep you all waiting for so long but life kicked my ass a little bit this month. Thank you all so much for your support and all of your kind words, I honestly never expected such amazing feedback. I was so nervous writing for a new fandom but you all have just been so encouraging and so kind. I really hope that each and every one of you enjoys Part 2 and that it lives up to your expectations! Thank you again, everyone!
Tags: @skeletoresinthebasement @peculiarleah @ivartheboneme @theburningspirit  @splendor-e I’m sorry if I missed anyone!


The days that followed Ivar’s cruel rejection were some of the bitterest you’d ever known. You weren’t sure just what to expect from all those hours at the prince’s side but outright exclusion wasn’t something that had even crossed your mind. Everything seemed to be going so well. You and Ivar constantly lost track of time as you engaged in passionate conversations, talking about everything and nothing and whatever was left in-between. You knew Ivar well know, perhaps well enough to call him a friend and you had secretly hoped that he shared these feelings.

You had even started to wonder if Ivar was more than just a friend. Even before that final blissful evening, the chemistry between you both was undeniable. In all of your years of working with patients in all sorts of intimate situations, not one had responded to your touch like Ivar had. Not even the most flirtatious warrior would gasp and whimper in a way that only a lover would yet Ivar practically melted in your hands.

Then, there were the looks. He may have been a man of few words when it came to discussing anything emotional but disappointment was always noticeable in Ivar’s bright eyes whenever you bid him goodnight. Then every morning, that disappointment vanished again when you arrived and exchanged private, flirty stares that were completely missed by Ubbe.

There was no way of really telling where the shy smiles and tantalizing glances were heading but you were certain that they were heading somewhere. That was why Ivar’s rejection hurt even more. You tried to be rational by reminding yourself that you weren’t Ivar’s lover and he had no obligation to explain anything to you but rationality didn’t keep you warm on those cold, lonely nights. 

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Officer Benny and Characterisation in Stealth

There’s a very special NPC in Thief II: The Metal Age. In the dimly-lit games room of the Truart Estate, surrounded by the discarded playing cards and abandoned dartboards of the recent party held by the Sheriff and his debaucherous toff friends, a lone drunken City Watch officer disconnectedly rambles to the barmaid on duty. His name is Officer Benny, and I love him.

“I can’t believe that s-some (hic) taffer went and spilled mead all over that rug!” he yells as you approach unseen, his model swaying unsteadily in a dramatic display of intoxication. The barmaid, clearly worn out by a harrowing work shift, sighs wearily.

“Benny… you spilled the mead on the rug,” she explains patiently. “Anyway, someone is on the way to clean it up already.”

“But you don’t understaaand!” Benny wails, now clearly, inexplicably on the verge of tears. “These (hic) taffers have no respect for such… b-beautiful things!

Around this point, it’s likely that you’ll start to tune out and skulk around in the gloom, looking for the telltale glint of loot to funnel into your pockets. Stacks of coins and rings litter the gaming tables, tempting you to sneak a hand under the hanging lamps. One of Karras’s Children—a hunchbacked steam-powered automaton with a head like a brass football —clanks around the room, mindlessly praising its creator to the heavens. It’s not much of a threat, but it’s certainly an annoying little contraption. One water arrow to the boiler grate usually does the trick.

“Benny, I think you’ve had too much to drink. Aren’t you supposed to be on duty?”

“Hah. So what if I am, huh?” he says, sounding more than a little defensive. “Anyways, I work mm-better when I’m drunk. It makes me fearless! If I see a bad guy, I’ll just point my sword at him, and saaaaaay… HEY, BAD GUY!”

You freeze, momentarily worried you’ve been spotted trying to snaffle the discarded goblet from beside the fireplace. Benny continues with his charade, utterly oblivious.

“You’re not s’posed to be here! G-go home or I’ll stick you with my sword ‘til you go ‘Ouch, I’m dead!’ Ah-hah-hah-hurgh!” He makes an indescribable sniffing, gurgling, chuckling noise, and momentarily falls silent. “See? Ain’t no one gonna be messin’ with ol’ Benny.”

“Whatever, Benny. I think you should sleep it off. No more mead for you.”

In the grand scheme of things, it’s a fairly trivial exchange: it doesn’t tie into some larger arc, it doesn’t impart any useful information about objectives or security system vulnerabilities, and neither Officer Benny nor the barmaid will ever be seen again. Benny’s emotional ping-ponging is unconvincing at best, and while his delivery certainly isn’t lacking in vigour, the only character in the room with exceptional voice acting is Garrett, the Master Thief; the one surreptitiously pocketing everyone’s gambling winnings during this exchange. And yet, Benny’s rambling accomplishes something very special. It’s the perfect, emblematic example of a quality present throughout the Thief games; one that shapes how we approach them, and in turn, the experiences they provide.

Thief II gives you a sword. Not a discreet little knife, fit for a slippery cutthroat, but a proper blade; the kind for lopping off soldiers’ limbs on a muddy, arrow-strewn embankment. It’s a silent acknowledgement that you may have to kill men, not in a surprise scuffle where you jump them from behind the bins, but in a full-on fight with multiple assailants. It’s the kind of thing you defend yourself with when things are rapidly going downhill and there’s nowhere to run; a tool for when the halls are filled with the sounds of alarm bells and clattering jackboots. In the right hands it can be quite effective, and it’s entirely possible to hack n’ slash your way through a legion of aggravated soldiers, provided they’re courteous enough to approach you in a narrow corridor or something.

Something doesn’t add up here, does it? Stealth needs reasons for you to stealth, so to speak. There have to be incentives to keep you in hiding, and those incentives usually start with some sort of punishment for being caught. You’re supposed to be outmatched and outgunned, or at the very least, have some higher-level motive for not wanting to be seen. If Garrett can accomplish his goals by going where he pleases and stabbing everyone who looks at him the wrong way, what’s stopping him, really?

Well, it’s kind of a dick thing to do, of course, but gamers have never been above murdering NPCs for slightly inconveniencing them. It’s also a flat-out fail state on many missions if you attempt them on a higher difficulty setting, but by the time you get around to them you’ve almost certainly put the idea out of your head long ago in any case. Dishonored, Thief’s darling modern protégé, would invisibly bump up the Chaos meter—a hidden metric that determines whether Corvo’s been naughty or nice—but Thief itself has no such system, and other than occasionally dropping remarks along the lines of “remember, murdering people is for poser scrublords”, does little to impress upon you the moral wrongness of your actions. A corpse is functionally identical to an unconscious body—indeed, were it not for a single line of HUD text, they’d be impossible to differentiate at all—and sure, people might be a bit more screamy if you clobber them over the head with a blade rather than a blackjack, but what does that matter if you’ve already established you’re not interested in being quiet?

No, Thief II chooses instead to work with characterisation. Who, of the people you encounter throughout its missions, are your enemies? Not the tired watchmen trudging through the halls on a cold evening; not the harmless peasants, trying to prosper in an industrial revolution even as it crushes them between its wheels; not even the Mechanist underlings, suckered into a fad cult and set to work fulfilling Karras’s insane agenda. Your foes are far away, clinking glasses in rooms full of light and music, and most of them will never meet you face-to-face. What direct quarrel do you have with the guards who patrol the game’s moody locales, besides the fact that they’re between you and your goal?

Right. They’re not your enemies, so Thief doesn’t characterise them as enemies. Engendering sympathy to discourage murdering NPCs is hardly a novel concept, but Thief’s approach stands out, primarily because it’s less about pre-emptive guilting and more about subtle humanisation. While you creep around behind their backs, guards will hum, whistle, recite passages, moan about the cold, mumble to themselves, even wonder aloud when they’re getting dinner. You’ll find guards cracking jokes, trash-talking each other’s employers, discussing financial management, complaining about the weather, worrying about being replaced by the new-fangled mechanical eyes, and a thousand other ordinary things totally unrelated to the here-and-now of their work shift. They’re not goose-stepping around shouting “boy, I sure hope nobody stabs me in the back while I’m pacing back and forth, how would my wife and three children ever survive on the streets without a loving father like me?”; they’re just… well, bored, usually. Wouldn’t it be terrible to have to cut down a person like that, just because they made the mistake of investigating some footsteps a little too closely? Thief makes you want to stay unseen, not for your own sake, but for the sake of those who might see you.

And Officer Benny? He’s the epitome of this humanisation. Not only is he drunk, chatty, skiving off work and chewing the scenery with an unprecedented level of unhinged abandon, but through his babbling, he offers an insight into his attitude. There’s no black, tarry pit of hatred boiling away somewhere in him, fuelled by some personal vendetta, waiting to bubble over in fury at the sight of a wayward miscreant; he’s just doing what he’s supposed to. Benny sees himself as the cop in the proverbial cops and robbers: a figure of authority in a simplistic world, out to stop the scoundrels and ruffians in a game where everyone mutually agrees on the rules. His inebriated cry of “HEY, BAD GUY! You’re not s’posed to be here!” is born of this position, announcing what he sees as incontestable truths, spoken more out of convention than anything else. And what’s his ultimatum? Go home, or get stabbed. Go home. Even faced with someone absolutely, undeniably in the wrong, in his morally black-and-white world, his first thought is of telling them to scarper; to leave peacefully, without accountability or interrogation. He’s not smart, or nuanced, or even—if you catch his attention—particularly true to his word, but Officer Benny’s attitude is charming in its simplistic naivety, devoid of real malice or antagonistic ideals. For that, I could no more swing my sword at him than kick a puppy, and that’s why he holds Thief II’s formula together—along with countless other watchmen, guards and Mechanists.

Thanks, Benny. I hope your hangover wasn’t too rough.

Cancer - The Crab

Element: Water
Modality: Cardinal
Ruler: Moon
Exaltation: Jupiter
Phrase: “I care.”
House: 4th
Body parts: Breasts, breastbone, stomach, digestive system, lower ribs, womb and pancreas.
Water Trine: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces
Cardinal Square: Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn
Opposition: Capricorn
Positive traits: Caring, Romantic, Maternal
Negative traits: Panic-stricken, Overly-sensitive, Clingy
Quote: “Never believe that a few caring people can’t change the world. For, indeed, that’s all who ever have.” - Margaret Mead

I used to think that the way they used to print long s’s as F’s or just the implementation of the Long S in general in writing was funny but then I had to type “Horfe” into a search bar and also decipher hand-written letters from people that use the long s and now I just find it a little annoying.

anonymous asked:

Have you ever gotten in a drinking contest with the others. Aren't you kinda like Thor and Steve (where they once drank that really fermented wine from Asgard and they weren't more than like slightly tipsy)? Is that at thing?

yes, we do have drinking contests but we play in teams as part of an elaborate drinking game called ‘forget your traumas.’ 

right now the teams are “water-related trauma;” which is tony and steve, “brainwashing & assassins;” which his me, nat and clint, and “anger issues” which is thor and dr banner.

 right now the method of play is some kind of freeze tag? and the floor is lava. there are ping pong balls involved. jarvis keeps track of the rules and tells people when they have to drink. we never know who wins though because we cant agree if winning is the most or the least drunk.

anonymous asked:

I have this idea of Stiles programming personal ringtones for everyone in his phone. But when he and Derek get together, he's stuck because /obviously/ he has to change his. Stiles can't figure anything out, & Derek just seems unimpressed with the whole thing. Stiles gives up and ends up busy, forgetting about it for a few days. And then Derek calls him about a week later, maybe asking him to grab a pizza or something before he comes over, and suddenly Stiles' phone is playing 'Howlin for you'

this is wonderful and thank you for this ask– i love love the idea of stiles doing personal ringtones for everyone. BUT WHAT IF STILES DECIDES THIS IS THE RINGTONE BEFORE THEY GET TOGETHER

Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” continues to blare as Stiles digs underneath the passenger’s seat for his phone. He’s very aware of the undignified position he’s in, but Scott’s calling and Stiles needs to pick up the phone. Now. He squirms, getting the Jeep’s gear to the stomach, and he can’t reach–

“Why don’t you just get out and walk around to the passenger side?” Derek says from behind him.

Stiles can picture it, Derek folding his arms and probably looking unimpressed, and scoffing at Stiles’ ineptitude, probably. Stiles huffs and plants his knees on the driver’s seat, ass wobbling precariously in the air. “Because I’m already here and I know where the phone is.” He does. He touched the metal casing, right before the song stopped playing. Great. Now Scott’s probably leaving a voicemail, which does not bode well since Stiles said he was getting Derek’s info about the troll and now Scott doesn’t know that the thing’s saliva is poisonous and–

“Why don’t you go round that way and help? What are you standing around there for?” 

Derek doesn’t say anything, but then Stiles can hear him stepping around the Jeep. Derek helpfully starts reaching underneath the seat, looking for Stiles’ phone and grumbling. “There’s so much junk under here,” he mutters, pulling out a copy of Wuthering Heights that Stiles was supposed to return to Lydia. Three years ago, when he was still in high school.

Derek’s phone is in the stomach of the last troll, so unfortunately their only line of communication with the rest of the pack is to find Stiles’ phone. In the dark. 

Fortunately, Lydia starts calling. Stiles can hear a few bars of Beethoven’s 9th before it stops, like she was interrupted while calling. 

“We don’t have time for this, we just need to get to them,” Derek mutters.

“Well that would be great, except we don’t know where–”

Derek howls. It resonates through the night, and in the distance there’s a returning howl. 

Stiles tries not to tremble. This is no time thinking about how hot that was. Damn crush, he thought he was over this. Wasn’t going to college and dating other people supposed to put and end to this awful pining? 

Apparently not. 

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rosemarie hathaway 

In spite of everything that’s happened, I’ve never thought of myself that way. Being a victim means being powerless. That you won’t take action. Always, always I’ve done something to fight for myself for others. No matter what.

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A TOTALLY, OUTRAGEOUSLY, AND INEXCUSABLY MASSIVE BOOK HAUL!!!!!!

Here are all the books that I picked up FOR FREE during my three week work experience placement at Penguin Random House.

There are THIRTY FIVE in total.

I have absolutely no self control whatsoever.

I’m so sorry. (But not really.)

Except where the fuck am I supposed to put all of them?!?!?

@chaitea09 replied to your post: Darren! You’re very handsome and I’m very single,…

Darren takes everything so literal, and it’s so adorable

Darren: You mean… that’s not what they meant??

Find Your Place: The Breath After

Read on Ao3


She would rather go back and bury Elizabet a hundred more times than have to deal with this.

The cheering, the stares, the crowds. It was like the “Anointed One” debacle all over again. Aloy had been an outcast all her life; she didn’t know how to handle the surplus praise, the ardent worship the town lavished upon her the moment she stepped into Meridian. She would prefer to sink into the shadows, be an invisible observer, just check in with Avad and disappear. She wasn’t these peoples’ savior. She wasn’t some god to be revered. She was a person.

The show of it all made her skin crawl.

And so she shoved her way through the sea of people, not caring if she seemed rude for ignoring their words or brusque for not acknowledging their thanks. All she wanted to do was talk to Avad, make sure the rest of her friends were safe, and leave. Go back to the Nora lands. Help her people rebuild.  She did care about the citizens, she wouldn’t have fought for them otherwise, but she was not made to be on a pedestal. She was made to act.

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What we’ve learned from living in Poland…

1. Beer is cheaper than water in Poland.
2. You are expected to pay for everything with coins, which makes having the necessary coins almost impossible.
3. Poles are convinced that drinking tap water will kill you.
4. Other everyday dangers include: air conditioning, putting ice in your drink, opening windows (unless you put cotton in your ears first), and eating the ends of bananas.
5. Poles bake cakes, not cookies
6. In the fall, instead of pumpkin-spiced lattes, Poles get excited about hot beer, mulled wine, cider, and mead - all of which are way better than pumpkin-spiced anything.
7. Poland is generally a safe country, except for the football hooligans. And the drunken tourists.
8. Ikea in Poland is the cheapest in the world, especially their hot dogs, which only cost $0.27.
9. Poles often seem distant at first, but once you get to know them, they become the warmest, most hospitable people you know.
10. Polish men have terrible fashion sense, but Polish women have impeccable style and dress to the nines, even if they are just going to the grocery store.
11. Everyone will look at your shoes
12. Every Polish family has at least one member who makes moonshine; and pickling is everyone’s hobby.
13. Jars and high-quality plastic bags are treated like endangered species that must be preserved.
14. Poles have an unnatural love for pigeons and sausage dogs.
15. The only time you get ketchup for free with your meal is when you order pizza.
16. Chivalry is alive and well in Poland, which is to say that playing to traditional gender roles will get you much farther with the opposite sex.
17. Polish women love making eye contact with strangers
18. Proving your love for a Polish lady usually means proving to her family that you can hold your vodka at every get-together.
19. With the exception of jazz, Polish music is mostly terrible.
20. Like most Polish traditions, forcing guests to overeat is something no one enjoys, but everyone does.
21. The government employs dozens of people to do the same job, because, as any of the people in that job will tell you, everything is someone else’s responsibility.
22. Church and State are not separate in Poland. In fact, Catholicism and patriotism are essentially the same thing.
23. People’s last names are often ordinary objects, which results in the people in your life having names like Dr. Spider, Mr. Book, Mrs. Horseradish and so on.
24. Slippers are worn at home year-round, and it’s imperative to keep several pairs for guests.
25. Once anything occurs more than twice, it becomes a permanent and hallowed tradition.
26. Poles generally like Americans, but are suspicious of the ones who willingly choose to live in their country.
27. Poles are extremely sensitive, and foreigners aren’t actually qualified to tell them anything about their home country (no matter how long they’ve lived there)

We invite you to comment below with anything you think should be added to the list, and please watch the video, where we had our friends and family read the list, and recorded their reactions! (via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhtcA1G53RY)