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ride-a-dromedary · 5 months

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HALSIN SILVERBOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No, but this tiny "not technically canon but word of god so good enough" tidbit lit up all the synapses in my brain because I keep circling back to the fact that elves *name themselves* as adults. And because I am very invested in the fact that Halsin likely came from a primarily elvish speaking community, "Silverbough" is likely a Common translation of his surname.

If we translate Silverbough into D&D elvish using available lexicons, with the assumption that "silver" is referring to the colour (so we can use words like "ari" or "teu" rather than "don" which is more like the metal) and "branch" can be used as a synonym of "bough" (so we can use "kathan" or "shan/on" - the latter also meaning a direct branch of a clan), there are several possible combinations. My favourites are:

Arikathan

Arishan

Teushan(on)

Which is already neat enough to think about, but when considering further, there is a reason this was the name Halsin chose, just as there was a reason he chose Halsin. Elves can choose surnames based solely in things that are important/of value to them, or that resonate with them, or have some meaning (perhaps in this case something like "Silverbough" can bring to mind something that is both delicate and strong, like Halsin is/attempts to balance), or it could be passed down (often done with elven nobility). It can also stand all on its own.

But another reason that gets the HC wheels turning, is that if we add in adjoining words being common elven practice in names, this could also be a case of identification of where he came from (so a clan name or a village; this could be an honouring of his past community), which written or pronounced in full would read, for example, like:

Halsin vand Arikathan or Halsin vantur Teushan(on)

(Tel can also be used if you wish to say "belonging to")

So "Halsin from Silverbough"

Or, if you want to go even more heart-achy, Silverbough could be a matronym. Elves generally (not always, but generally) work matrilineally, in that their familial lineages draw from their mother and her family. So Halsin could have very well chosen the name Silverbough because it was his mother's name. Case in point, it would read more along the lines of:

Halsin va'e Iarishan or Halsin va'e Iteushan

Meaning, literally, Halsin son of Silverbough.

#BG3 Musing #Halsin #Jemi gets asks #my notebook at my desk is filled with word combos and scribbles - i put solid thought into this #but like i remembered that elves sometimes name themselves 'so and so child/son/daughter or so and so' and i was like HMM #because 'Silverbough' is pretty but not really what I would assume halsin would choose for himself UNLESS #those two key reasons - it was done on purpose to illustrate something strong but delicate - like halsin #or it's his mom's name #anyway catch me over here in the corner

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why-the-heck-not · 2 months

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The yearly phenomenon where u get the first rays of sunshine and ppl (me included) act like it’s summer even tho it’s still just +1 degrees out; all I can think abt is making an icey coffee treat and I saw a person casually walking outside in shorts

#also im corny so my favorite ’’joke’’ is that ’hmm what a weird light phenomenom we’ve got outside have u seen this shit??’#it’s not even slightly funny bc overused to death #I think I’m going to make an iced americano and go for a walk and listen to hozier bc oh duuude that’s the best #and wear the leather jacket !! and sunglasses!!! (im abt to feel the coolest I’ve felt in months; winter clothes make me feel like #i’m abt 12-years-old for some reason)#I should study yes but walk first now that there’s sun that will never not help with things #march 2024 #2024

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overlordneptune · 3 months

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I’ve been feeling real down about my art and artblock is making me want to cry and quit and give up on my dreams and aspirations but I truly peaked with my sebastian pfp so I’m posting it as a reminder that I’m not a failure. I’d appreciate if you don’t use these because I made them for myself, annnnd yeah. Anyways SEBASTIANNNNN‼️‼️

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beaulesbian · 10 months

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Nimona (2023) dir. by Nick Bruno and Troy Quane

#nimona #nimonaedit #ambrosius goldenloin #the director #the director nimona #nimona netflix #netflixedit #animationedit #mine #gif:nimona #it was all probably already said about this scene #but i love ambrosius questioning slowly what proof he had before his own eyes #like seeing ballister's sword in the director's room and panicking about the arm chopping #but only in this scene he saw how horrible the director truly was and what all she would sacrifice for her own reasoning #hmm lot of metaphors and allegories! so good this movie

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frodo-of-the-nine-fingers · 7 months

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The emperor writes, "How should you be? You should be like a rocky promontory against which the restless surf continually pounds. It stands fast while the churning sea is lulled to sleep at its feet. I hear you say, 'How unlucky that this should happen to me.' But not at all. Perhaps say instead, 'How lucky I am that I am not broken by what has happened and I'm not afraid of what is about to happen.' For the same blow might have struck anyone, but not many who would have absorbed it without capitulation or complaint."

#black sails #james flint #john silver #anne bonny #bs max #bs madi #jack rackham #billy bones #mine #me: hmm yeah i dont particularly have a particular ending re flint that compels me more than the other #like theyre both really sad and miserable just for different reasons so neither compells me #also me: no yeah woodes rogers definitely came back 10 or so years later and took ov #*over again dethroning max and jack died in port royal a la irl history and anne disappeared like thats what happened #⚰️

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chattahoochiecoochie · 1 year

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Plans, Plural

Summary: A Bengals athletic trainer gets a drink after work, with a few new friends.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This is, if nothing else, a two thousand word build up for an uber pool joke. Is this turning into a series? Am I mentally ill like that? Maybe. A fluffy, funny bit of filler to get us where we want to go. Part one’s here.

“Yeah, two Blue Moons,” Joe’s voice catches as he looks at you.

“Guinness.” Your voice is quiet, hardly a whisper. You’d gotten water last time, so exhausted and dizzy you wouldn’t have been able to keep anything else down even if you’d wanted it.

“And a Guinness for her.” He turns his eyes back to the waitress, flashing a pearly white smile.

This is nice, and for a moment you forget the events that have led you here. For just a second it's only about the way he orders for you, the way he drove you three here, and how he’ll drive you home after. How Sam will walk you up to your apartment, hand in yours. You shake your head, fighting off the sense of familiarity.

It’s dizzying, how well orchestrated it is, how predictable they’ve made it feel. You’ve only been here once with them, after they’d teamed up on you in your exam room—but you feel absolutely certain that this will end the same as last time. They planned it that way. You shake your head. They planned it that way?

They must have, what with the way Sam was waiting for you tonight, standing outside your exam room, holding his bag in one hand, the other out to take yours. And the way he’d walked you out of the stadium, fingers intertwined with yours as he led you through the parking lot. And Joe with the way he had pulled his car into the west parking lot, just how he had the first time, sitting under the only broken light, waiting for the two of you.

You can hear the boys talking, kicking each other beneath the table while they wait for their beers to arrive, but its background noise, a faded sound. Your mind is racing. They planned this.

Joe had dropped you at the bar's door, with Sam at your side. He’d park the car and then he’d be right in, he’d said. And when the three of you had left last time, and you asked to be taken back to the stadium, Sam had laughed, and held you by the back of your neck. You were tired, and now you’d been drinking. They’d get you home, you could worry about your car tomorrow.

But I work early, you can hear yourself slurring as the memory plays. I’m in early tomorrow too, Joe says to you, rubbing his hand on your thigh. You just send me a text when you’re ready in the morning, and I’ll be by. Is that how they’d gotten your phone number?

There’d been a group message the next morning when you woke up. Joe was on his way, Sam wanted to know if they could stop for Starbucks. Want us to get you anything?

It had seemed like dominoes at the time, the eventuality of progressing circumstance. But they had planned it, hadn’t they? You want to be worried, to hesitate, to ask them why, but you’re cornered anyways, and it’s so nice to let someone else be in control for once, to have a plan at all.

“And a Guinness for you honey. Can I get y’all anything else for now?” You blink slowly, reaching out for the beer that's been placed in front of you.

“I think we’re set, thank you.”

“So Guinness, huh?” With the waitress gone, Sam puts a hand on your knee, leaning over to look closely at your drink.

“They taste good.” You look up at him, very aware of how he’s pinned you inside the booth by taking the outer seat.

“Oh is that right?” He leans against you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll find out later then.” So he’ll kiss you goodnight this time too, then?

“Have you always liked stout?”

Why does every guy always ask? “My dad—” And why are you giving him your practiced response? You fall short, letting your mouth quirk into half a pout.

“Your dad what?” They’re both looking at you, eyes wide with interest that must be real because it’s too intense to be manufactured.

“My dad always had some, uh, growing up. My first beer was Guinness.” You laugh, when Joe quirks a brow with curiosity. “Some friends and I had some at a sleepover after my parents had gone to bed. Spent the whole night puking in my bathroom.” You don’t tell people that part, and you’re not sure why it comes so easy in front of them.

“I threw up my first time too. Half a case of natty lights.”

You and Joe both groan loudly at the thought of it. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he is also tasting every cheap college beer and the memory tied to it. When he pretends to gag, you decide that he must be.

“Bringing back memories Joey?” Sam grins, swigging from his glass quickly before sliding it to the end of the table, empty.

And suddenly, that's it. Whatever you’ve been holding onto in your mind simply slips from your reach. Before you know it, you are sliding your glass to meet his at the end of the table, leaning over Sam’s lap as you try not to spit up your last sip—overwhelmed with laughter as Joe recounts the worst college party his memory has to offer. What had you wanted to ask earlier?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, feeling a sense of finality about it. Sam is kissing you on the forehead, and you are vaguely aware that beneath the table, he has Joe by the hand. This is nice, this is good. And Joe’s getting you another beer, so now’s not the time to interrupt anyways.

“And he’ll take another Blue Moon, too.”

“Sounds good, can I get y’all anything to snack on?” She’s chipper, the young woman standing at the end of the table.

You shake your head at Joe, almost instinctively. Why are you letting him speak for you?

“No, we're all good. We’ll close too, if that’s okay.” He turns away from you, speaking to the waitress with a pointed voice you didn’t know he could manage. There's control in his tone, in his affect. That’s why.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom, and then I’ll go get the car.” Beneath the table, Joe pats your knee firmly before sliding out of the booth.

“Alright, we’ll walk your way when we’re done here. You on 17th?”

Already walking away, Joe nods, back turned to them.

“Better drink up then baby, we’ve got some walking to do.” Sam lifts your glass from the table, holding it out for you to take. There's half a pint left, most of it warm now after how much the three of you had talked. Better that way, anyhow.

Grazing his hand you take the glass from him, breathing in through your nose as you sip the last of it quickly. With the back of your hand you wipe your mouth, slamming the heavy cup onto the table, back into the ring of condensation it had left behind.

“Wanna race?” You’re grinning, holding back a hiccup as you stare him down.

“I think I’ve had dreams about you.” He’s breathless, looking at you with vague wonder before pressing a kiss to your lips. He slides away from you on the seat, letting you follow the kiss right out of the booth until you're both standing on the sticky bar floor, you with your back pressed to the column dividing your booth from the one before it, and him with a knee between your legs, daring you to move against him.

Eyes closed, you sink against the narrow wall, sighing against his mouth as he slips his tongue over your lips. He’s scratchy today, having let his facial hair grow out since the last time. It’s ticklish, the rough sensation kind of—

“Boo!” You freeze, eyes wide when Sam lets go of you, spinning on his heel. In front of you, Joe is looking delightfully guilty.

With a quick hand, he pats Sam on the backside, before making off on quick feet for the door. “Last one to the car loses!”

“Absolutely not.” Sam turns back to you, face set. “You and I will race another day, okay?”

Before you can answer or even think, he’s got you off the floor, slung over his shoulder with your feet in the air. With one arm on your back and the other wrapped around your thighs, he sprints for the door with heavy steps. It takes everything in you not to shriek as the night air hits you, whistling in your ears as he runs.

He’s not fast, at least not fast enough but it's shocking how uninhibited he is by the weight of you in his arms. Shrieking and squealing, you are tossed around as he covers the first city block, and then the second.

You know you’ve lost, before he even begins to slow down. The heavy sound of him breathing, and the growing volume of Joe’s laughter as you get closer is telling enough.

“Shut up.” Sam is fully gasping as his steps become shorter. At a slow walk, with his chest heaving, he maneuvers you, bringing you down to brace against his chest for a moment before holding you out. “You take her, dick.”

Laughing loudly, Joe appears beside you, arms out to catch you. “We gotta get your cardio up, goddamn.”

With a grunt, Sam drops you against Joe, stepping back to catch his breath fully. The transfer is awkward, and you’re trying to find a reason for it at all—the car is right there.

Sensing you squirming in against him, Joe turns his attention to you, coughing on the last bit of a quiet chuckle. “You think you got it?” He lets you slip slowly from his arms. That’s why.

The ground feels shaky beneath you, and Jesus, your head is pounding. Stumbling, you reach for something to grab, coming up with a fistful of Joe’s shirt. You cling to him, hiccuping and shaking. It feels as though you’ve just been spun in a blender, or rinsed out on a spin cycle.

“I gotcha.” He’s laughing again, head tossed back as he takes you by the forearm. “Let’s get you in the car.”

With your eyes shut, you let him lead you around the car. Staggering blindly, you feel for the passenger seat of his Porsche, sinking into it as slowly as he’ll let you. Safely inside, with your hands gripping the leather, you brace against the headrest.

Pulling the belt across your shoulder, Joe presses a kiss to your forehead, wearing a smirk you can feel. And with the belt clicked into place, you feel him move away. “I’ll be right back.”

“Mmm.”

Minutes later, after the muffled sound of them play fighting outside the car has ceased, and Sam is safely crumpled on the backseat, Joe returns, this time to sit beside you. Hand on your thigh he looks at you sideways, curious.

“I’m good.” You try for a smile, wondering if the silence from the back is any indication of how much worse off Sam must be.

“Let’s get you home then. Sam, seatbelt, please.”

A grunt comes from behind you, followed by a loud fumbling and then finally, the click of the belt as it locks into place.

“Excellent.” Joe lets his hand run up your leg before settling his hold at the top of your thigh, where your own hands are now folded in your lap.

“Uber pool is crazy, huh?” He deadpans, jaw set.

“This is me.” You say it over your shoulder, fumbling with your keys as you consider the fact that he already knows that, having brought you to your door the last time. If he does remember, he doesn’t say.

Standing beside you, he leans against the wall when you get the door open finally, hand out to touch your waist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” It’s phrased like a question but if the tone of familiarity is anything to go off, you know it's not. You nod anyway, lingering against his touch.

He pauses for a moment, looking at you with a glint in his eye. Before you can second guess it, his mouth is on yours, brief and sweet. He’s trying for gentle, it seems, fingers ghosting over your hip as he steps back from you.

“In the morning?” Just like last time?

“That’s the plan, pretty girl.” That’s the plan. That’s the plan.

You’re still rolling the words around in your mouth when you finally lock the door behind yourself, sinking against it with a blush on your face and a girlish squeal threatening to break loose. They planned it.

A/N: Part three is right here.

#hmm #many thoughts #many many thoughts #mostly why has no one plotted on me like this #hm? whats the reason?#chattahoochiecoochie writes #joe burrow #sam hubbard #joe burrow and sam hubbard #joe burrow x reader #sam hubbard x reader #bengals #nfl fic #joe burrow fic #sam hubbard fic #joe burrow fluff

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qsmprambling · 8 months

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Imagine Egg A1 still has one life left, and it somehow manages to escape the facility... It is being followed by mobs, by Federation employees, being hurt by the poison ivy and other environmental threats, but it keeps running, because what other choice is there? That parkour course was a trick after all, the last block was a fake, it was never meant to pass that test in the first place.

So it keeps running, but the Federation workers are getting closer. It won't be able to avoid them forever...

But then it bursts through some bushes and comes face to face with someone new - and it's Bad, out building or exploring or just wandering alone. A1 is immediately afraid, of course. It is a stranger, a very visually striking stranger, the complete opposite of the pure white and featureless employees of the Federation. But there are people close behind, and it knows what will happen to it if it is caught, so... It has no choice but to try. It has no way to communicate, no signs or books, so it simply rushes to hide behind him and hopes he understands, and that he is willing to help...

And Bad, for his part, well.. he's an extremely cautious and paranoid person, and this is just an incredibly confusing and unexpected situation to be in. An unknown egg appeared out of nowhere and is hiding behind him, he can see Federation employees in the distance that are clearly looking for something... He knows that the code has been disguising itself as eggs, and that the strange egg in front of him with no marks, no distinguishing features, an egg that he has never seen before, could easily be the code monster preparing to attack at any moment...

But there is absolutely no way Bad could ever look at an egg in distress and not try to help it, even knowing it could be a trap.

So he quickly digs a shallow hole and pushes the mysterious egg into it, covering it up just in time, and when the employees throw him a book asking if he had seen anything, he lies effortlessly, he complains about nonsense, he asks them where the Ekea is and is as annoying as he can be, until they leave.

And now they're alone... just Bad an this mystery egg in the middle of the woods, A1 too afraid to leave the hole even when Bad tries to coax it out. He gives it food and tries his best to comfort it, to tell it everything is okay and that the pursuers are gone. He gives it some signs and a book, trying to see if it will write anything to him or answer any of his questions, but he gets no reply. A1 is just too afraid to even attempt to answer, and Bad doesn't even know if it understands him. He tries what few words he does know of the other languages, and still no response.

What should he do? As much as the image of a tiny, terrified egg makes him want to do all he can for it he also needs to be safe. He can't bring it home, because if it is a code there is no way he is bringing it anywhere near Dapper. Should he call someone else for help, or would that draw too much attention? Would it even be safe for him or the egg to let anyone know right now? And was this egg dangerous, or harmless and in need of protection? He wouldn't abandon it regardless but...

What now?

#Egg A1 #badboyhalo #I am a Bad watcher it will always be qBad in my what ifs even if anyone could do it #Plus he is perfect for the job #I can't write fic but yes this is basically an A1 fic oops #ElQuackity you thought killing a featureless egg was a safe option but you're wrong we are all attached #I want A1 to be alive and to escape to be adored and protected #Also I bet if Bad got caught with a mystery egg I think he'd just go 'Huh? No this is my other child you just never saw them before :)'#Also for some reason my brain was calling A1 'Alice' but then I saw people using 'Ai' and that's adorable too~#Though it also makes me think 'artificial intelligence' but hey maybe that is fitting for the fabricated eggs theory XD #'What now' I ask as if I am not already imagining Bad trying to protect A1 and also be safe in case it is a threat #not wanting to think it is but unable to know otherwise #but also being so BBH about it and just being in complete dad mode when they interact #he keeps it in it's own safe little secure home and does what he can to help it with minimal communication for several days #until A1 starts to open up little by little - incredibly slowly #Bad very gradually telling very select people about it #until eventually when the Federation finds out - everyone who knows is immediately hmm what no this is our child what do you mean?#and go ultra protective #because A1 deserves the world #fic within the tags yes #Bad ruined my sleep schedule and I can't sleep mindless rambles time

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