Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling.
Commission for the amazing Gabbo! This is Bunnie and she is such a great character that I loved working on it! If you wanna know more about this mysterious character and why she is wielding ectoplasmic energy, please ask Gabbo! Such an amazing story! (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。
(Also, I swear I´m not dead, Im just recovering from surgery and will be ok hopefully next week to keep posting here and in the Witchy Stuff Blog ♡)
I think I’m having a moment of real self-knowledge here, where I realize that this isn’t universal, but it is true of me: I want freedom far more than I want money or authority.
To a point; I don’t want freedom more than healthcare or stable housing, or even more than reliable Internet service. I have no romantic illusions about noble poverty. It’s just that if I’m secure and I have the opportunity for advancement, I’d rather advance to more freedom than more money.
So this is good to know about myself. Good to know when I’m thinking about further education or a new job. I don’t want to position myself for the best career. I want to position myself for a career that will support me being as unencumbered as possible. I need to give more thought to the difference between these goals.
MERRY MORBOL MISHAP: THE NEWEST STARLIGHT DECORATION STARRING IN ISHGARDIAN HOMES
For years it’s been an unmarked tradition amongst Ishgardian Nobles to outdo their peers in the realms of Starlight Decor, but never have they reached to such levels as those seen being pulled this coming Starlight, up north. Rumors are spreading that not one, but at least several of the noble houses have adapted a new substitute for the cherry, common, Starlight Tree! And new evidence shows this fast-spreading word of mouth about laying dancing lights over foliage with mouths isn’t just another word off the vine.
One report we at The Crucible have received relays the account of one Perrine Pepin, recently seen accompanying her Miqo'te ward Wu'rexa Norh away from the dearly deadly and inenviably infamous Aurum Vale. This member of the Ishgardian nobility has stated, on the record, that it is not, in fact, true that the careless nobility are in fact lining their walls with putrid pets. But a fresh supply of Aurum Vale soil dragged along behind her bespoke the story the Isghardian knight dared not to. Is it more Noble frivolity and folly? Or is it something deeper?
It’s already a well known fact of despair that morbols - misguided as they are - bear an ill threat to the pomp and priss of high society. Letting go the fashion faux pas of mingling teeth with tinsel, the stench leaves nothing to be admired, and witnesses are already claiming the sudden absences of pets, chocobo, and dearly beloved (and less beloved) children. Will the fun loving new Starlight Tree carry on as Isghard’s newest (odd) (as if there’s any other way for an Ishgardian to be) tradition? Or will this madness reach a breaking point and wreak havoc as a crawling, tentacled terror? More on this story as the season continues!
(Please submit all witness reports on morbol-related missing children, loved ones, and household appliances to one X’elo Rochester, who has graciously volunteered to charge alone into the wilderness and return anything lost unharmed. How delightful of him! If he claims ignorance remind him kindly that he’s married to a vampire and really should get out of the house more.)
Written by Ishgard Condescender
(First draft | 4,600 Word Chapter | Multichapter WIP)
The title comes from the song that very loosely inspired the fic in the first place. It’s a Punch Brother’s song, and you can read the lyrics here,
which I personally think are extremely brilliant. I’d like to give it
an original title at some point, but I think I need to get further into
it before it comes to me.
Characters: Tentoo, Rose Tyler, Donna Noble (duplicate).
Fic Summary: Tentoo
is having TARDIS withdrawals, and Rose is struggling with feelings of
helplessness. In an effort to give the pair of them some space to work
through their difficulties, Jackie decides to send them on a two week
luxury cruise. Adventure ensues, with plenty of hurt/sick/comfort, excitement, flirtatiousness, telepathy, mystery, romance, and superstition.
Chapter Summary:Rose and the Doctor ask Sarah for help, and also do a little sunbathing. But some strange things are starting to happen…
The Doctor stood on
the private balcony, waiting for Rose Tyler to finish getting ready.
He leaned on the railing, watching the water churn away from the
ship’s hull, swirling into eternity in foamy white ribbons. A
persistent sea breeze teased his hair and swept coolly across his
cheekbones, turning them pink from the salt and the cold.
He was thinking
about Donna at the moment, and trying to decide how to explain to
Rose what had happened, feeling fairly certain he was making things
more complicated than they needed to be, but simultaneously feeling
incapable of simplifying. He didn’t think Rose would be angry. She
would be concerned, certainly. But he suspected she might resent the
fact that he hadn’t mentioned it before, and he was wondering to
himself exactly why he hadn’t. He wasn’t being intentionally
secretive, but things had been so chaotic since his arrival, it just
hadn’t come up. And now it felt like something he was keeping from
:::You dumbo. Just tell her.:::
The Doctor blinked,
stumbling back from the railing.
:::Doctor. Just trust her. The
longer you wait, the worse you’ll make it.:::
He spun around, the
heels of his palms pressing into his temples, eyes wide and
His thoughts felt
like an echo bouncing around an empty cave. There was a low
vibration at the base of his skull and an ache of pressure behind his
Donna, answer me!
:::Doctor. May… she can help…
know how… d… sh… you.:::
The connection was
fading, communication crumbling like static on a bad phone line.
Donna, please listen to me. I’ll
find you! Please, just hold on. …Donna?
He exhaled sharply,
not realizing he’d been holding his breath, sucking in a sobbing gasp
of air as a tear born of the sheer intensity of the moment slid down
Viola, a young Noblewoman has been shipwrecked and was thought to have drowned. She was rescued by a passing ship, and brought to shore by the Captain and his men.
Captain: You’re in Illyria, madam.
My brother… He must have drowned! Or maybe there’s a chance.—What do you think, sailors?
Captain: My lady… it is a miracle that you lived.
Captain: But don’t fret ma’am, when the ship was ruined I saw your brother tie himself to a mast. He was alive the last I saw him, so there is a chance…
Do you know where we are?
Captain: Yes… I grew up not far from here.
Viola: Who is the ruler here?
Captain: A kind and noble Duke named Orsino.
When I first heard about him, he was still a bachelor.
Captain: Still is, as of a month ago. But in love with the Beautiful Countess Olivia…
Viola: Who is she?
Captain: A virtuous young woman, the daughter of a count who died last year. Her brother had custody of her for a while, but then he died too. They say she’s totally sworn off men now, in memory of her brother.
Viola: I wish I could work for her! It’d be a good way to hide from the world until the time was right to identify myself.
Captain: That might not be easy.. She won’t let anyone see her, even the Duke’s messengers.
Viola: You seem to be a good person, captain. Please—and I’ll pay you plenty for this—
and find me the right disguise so I can look the way I want. I want to be this Duke’s servant. You’ll introduce me to him as a eunuch. You won’t be wasting your time, because I really can sing and talk to him about many different kinds of music, so he’ll be happy to have me in his service. Only time will tell what will happen after that—just please keep quiet about what I’m trying to do.
Captain: I won’t say a word. You can be a eunuch, and I’ll be mute. I swear on my life I won’t tell your secret.
earlier today I was looking out of the window, thinking wistfully about Arthur Maxson’s battlecoat, as we all do.
‘goodness,’ I thought. 'it is a shame I’ve not managed to find a coat as fine as his in all these months.’
hours passed, much data was manipulated, but my traitorous body began to demand food so I left the office in search of lunch. en route, instead of turning left toward the local purveyor of miscellaneous foodstuffs as I would usually do, I found myself walking right and into the local purveyor of miscellaneous clothing items.
'I mean,’ I told myself, as the vertibird escalator lifted me skyward. 'it’s probably not even worth looking.’
once aboard the Prydwen first floor of TK Maxx I stepped through the serried ranks of clothes racks, seeing nothing to delight my eye until suddenly
a light blazed down from the gantry ceiling
a choir of Scribes sang out phone rang
a single, noble tear rolled down my cheek
because of this.
an exact replica of the coat was never going to work with my modern-day aesthetic but this? this is perfect.
I may not have a beard and the scar’s on my thigh but I will be requiring you all to call me Elder from now on.
NB: I am not as easy to seduce out of a coat as my namesake.
NB2: that is a lie but I do have a partner and our bond is steel a mortgage so it would be indecorous at best.
You know, it’s kind weird since the comic series initially made me hate Jerry because he seemed even more selfish than in the cartoon at 1st. But then I read a couple of more issues of the Rick and Morty comics and I think I actually appreciate and sympathize Jerry as a character a bit more, even though I still have mixed feelings about him as a person.
I mean, he actually wants go to help Rick save his son from drug-lords despite Rick saying he’ll probably get in the way and get killed. Like it’s still stupid, but it’s also pretty noble of him.
It tells the tale of a succession of captains sailing their ships from the ports used by the East India Company. The stories end badly, but they are stories, log entries of the happenings on the voyages: ships fought, bad and good winds, running low on rum…