⸙ Wanderer ⸙

you ever get so inspired by a clothing line that you draw three posters in three hours? yeah me too.

hey @markiplier I adore all of the pieces in this, you did an amazing job!!

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Reblog, don’t repost

The cock/chicken “became the chthonic bird, and was used on tombs, as emblematic of the hope of a reawakening to life”. (Peters) and it is also refered as “an infernal animal of passage” by Bernabe in his book Instructions for the Netherworld: the orphic gold tablets.He also says: ”Cocks allude to the world of the afterlife: as intermediaries between the soul and the Beyond, they intercede between the world of the dead and that of the living”.

Remember Persephone was the goddess of renewal, so at least in Locri, the cock was an usual attribute of her. And in other cultures cocks-chickens were seen as animals related to renewal and life (eggs have that symbolism tooo).

:D so. chickens for Hades and Persephone all the way.

“To intercede between the world of the living and that of the dead, as intermediaries between the soul and Beyond.”

“You mean…to get to the Other Side?”

Yet the best “solution” they have come up with after all that time and money and effort is a dangerous surgery where they induce starvation and malnourishment by mutilating an essential digestive organ. And after all of that, people still regain the weight they lose.

If there was truly a way to safely and sustainably lose weight by just manipulating what you eat or how much you exercise, we’d all know about it by now. This is not one of those cases of “Oh, they just haven’t discovered it yet!! Science will get there eventually!”

"is Azula truly evil?"

"Is she sympathetic?"

And focus on...

"is she compelling?"

I wrote edelclaude and it was initially supposed to be cute but…. um. Anyways, I guess a lot of edelclaude and dimiclaude fics include claude just becoming cool with a lot of stuff very quickly and I just think I wanna see that sweet conflict. So.

VW run but with established edelclaude. Right after the holy tomb.

Might do a series of oneshots depending on how this one does. I love these two idiots.

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Norman twitched his finger towards himself a couple of times, signaling the accountant to follow him with a small, vague smirk.

Grant obliged.

Their fast yet silent steps rose all the way up the building until they were drowned by the heavy murmurs of the orchestra room as they climbed, unnoticed, the stairs leading up to Norman’s elevated booth, from which they could observe everything and everyone.

The accountant quirked an eyebrow.

What’s the matter?

The projectionist’s sly grin didn’t falter.

You’ll see soon enough.

There was a slam strong enough for the drum player to nearly fall over, and Sammy marched into the room looking positively wrathful. He slapped a bunch of paper on his music stand, yelled something too garbled to be understood by non musical folks and grabbed his baton so hard it seemed about to snap in two.

His arm raised, and when it fell the brass section cried out a loud succession of furious notes.

Then the orchestra followed.

Grant had never, ever seen such a spectacle. His eyes were a pair of tea saucers behind is small round glasses as he beheld Samuel Lawrence directing the band with motions that would have been much more fitting of a person suffering from the possession of a multitude of horrendous demons who enjoy arguing with one another too much than of an angry musician.

The music was fast-paced, frenzy, and mad as all hell, and Grant had to hold onto both the balustrade and his kippah or he was sure the notes would have blown him away. The baton harshly swung from left to right and right to left, up, down, up, down, up, down.

He found himself more entartained than he’d ever been.

Someone chose a horrible moment to get in - the accountant couldn’t see who it was, as Sammy lost no time and threw the baton at the intruder, who immediately retreated in understandable terror as the music director yelled: “GET THE FUCK OUT, WE’RE PLAYING A RAGTIME!” before resuming his job, his hand cutting the air without mercy.

It took four minutes for the song to end with an explosion of brass.

Sammy inhaled deeply, readjusted his hair as best as he could.

And with a gesture, he told the band to get the actual music sheet they were supposed to be playing.

Up in the projection booth, Grant turned to Norman. The older man was smiling wide, his deep wrinkles cutting shadows into his aging face.

So?

The accountant smiled back, almost a little breathless.

Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg Galdramaður festi meg festi meg Trøllabundin djúpt í míni sál í míni sál Í hjartanum logar brennandi bál brennandi bál

Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg Galdramaður festi meg festi meg Trøllabundin inn í hjartarót í hjartarót Eyga mítt festist har ið galdramaður stóð

English translation:

Spellbound am I, am I The wizard has enchanted me, enchanted me Spellbound deep in my soul, in my soul In my heart burns a smouldering fire, smouldering fire

it's not only a useless metaphor since the rich tend to go to great lengths to be thin - it also spreads the disinformation that fatness is caused by overconsumption, rather than genetics + a million other environmental factors, just like any other body size.

Claude taking off to Almyra after being defeated would be one thing. It makes sense when he does it in CF. The Alliance is conquered so he leaves to ensure stability for the new leader.

But the Alliance isn’t conquered in AM. That’s the whole point of Dimitri coming to help. To stop the invasion! Why stop one invasion just to agree to a different one?

The logical course of action here would be for Claude to ally with Dimitri so their nations can both maintain independence. But the writers wanted a United Fodlan in every route. They wanted Claude out of the picture one way or the other.