Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous, Baldur’s Gate, Planescape, swamp witchery, random scribblings, frogs, bats, and my wonderful friends’ creations. This is a grown-up swamp 🔞
Tags
Writing – my writing
Personal tag – dicton dujour
Major works on AO3
PWOTR: The Lark and the Crow series / If I Betray My Heart / I Stab Thee With My Heart
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I love this post because the replies are like "for anyone who doesn't know what nestle did, they benefited from [insert human rights violation here]" but nestle has done SO many fucked up things you get a different topic in every comment
Drained water from places suffering from drought for absolute pennies.
Made African mothers dependent on their milk formula, which they gave for free, until their milk dried up. Then they required them to purchase it, mothers could not afford it, mixed in too little to fulfill nutrient needs, and mixed it with polluted water. Children died.
Used slavery to produce their cocoa.
Pushed for water to be considered a “want” not a “need” and is at the forefront of arguments that water is not a human right.
Poisoned Chinese infants with melamine in their milk formula.
Demanded Ethiopia pay a debt owed to Nestle, during a FAMINE.
Price-fixed food items.
Contributed to deforestation for their cocoa farming.
The worst thing is, Nestle owns TONS of other brands, making it difficult to avoid for certain products.
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I will be know for my magical blue phase I guess.
Anyway I will be moving solely to sharing stuff on Patreon for a while since there is a lot less pressure there. My mental health is dropping rapidly again and It's becoming difficult to function normally.
As all me fellow depressive/anxiety disordered riddled homies know.
as always you can support me on here ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ | ᴋᴏғɪ
smooches from yours truly <3
oooh 10 feels like it could be very woljif/nereo 👀
[10.] finding yourself staring at their mouth and getting caught.
Woljif shakes his flask, letting the liquid inside strike the metal sides of the container.
In all his life he’s never been outside the city. He’s never been surrounded by an army of do-gooders and crusaders. He’s out of ale and not nearly drunk enough to deal with this. And the man who is to blame is smiling at him from across the campfire, on his second drink, himself, while Seelah hangs onto him with one arm around his shoulders.
“To victory!” she says, raising a bottle. “To late nights under the stars with the men and women who fight alongside us! The fight is not easy, no. Never easy. Yet we face it with steadfast courage, for we know why we fight. Friends! Allies! To you!”
A hearty cheer rises through the crowd, but most folks are too tipsy to mind Seelah’s words. Woljif himself resists the urge to roll his eyes at them. How absurd, how saccharine. Perhaps picking through some pockets will cheer him up. Yes, later, when things wind down a bit more. He makes a mental note of it.
“Anything to add, Nereo?” Seelah asks, giving the newly appointed knight commander a squeeze.
“To wine,” Nereo says dryly. Goofy little half-smile that he has.
“I think you can do better than that,” Seelah laughs. “You’ve done a great thing!”
“Nah,” he answers. “Everyone elsse did the heavy lifting. I’m no good at that sstuff anyway.”
“I think you gotta cut him off, Seelah,” Lann chimes in. “He’s starting to sound like Chief Sull.”
Nereo answers with utmost care, “Ssull… iss very wisse. And I am not even very drunk.”
But he does sound like the old man. Despite himself, Woljif fails to suppress a smile.
“I think Lann may be on to somethin’, chief,” he says, hopping to his feet and darting close enough to free Nereo’s bottle from his hand. “Better lemme confiscate this! For your own good, you understand!”
He takes a swig of the alcohol, warming up at once. When he turns back to Nereo, his friend is watching him intently.
“I am not drunk,” he tells him again. Then, with obvious effort, “Jusst a lil’ buthed. Shit.”
“Really,” Nereo insists. “It’ss because I’m tired.” He yawns as he says it, as if to convince the others. Or maybe it is genuine.
“A likely story,” Seelah says, with mischief in her eyes.
But now he’s gone and pointed it out. When he yawns, Woljif catches a glimpse of Nereo’s canines in the firelight. They are dangerously sharp, glinting in his mouth like two gems. And if that were not enough, he also sees that Nereo’s tongue is split, right down the middle. Not forked like a snake. Split.
No one else reacts. But Woljif stands, rooted to the spot, staring, and replaying that fraction of a second in his head. What’s that about? He kinda wants to see it again.
“You people are impothible,” Nereo says, giving up the fight.
Lann spits out his ale and Seelah buries her face in his shoulder, giggling.
“Never drinking with you again. I juth have a little lithp becauthe of my fangth and tongue. Drinking maketh it worthe. Like it’th my fault! Cut it out, Woljif, or tho help me,” he adds, and Woljif nearly drops the bottle.
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Just watched Adam Conover (of Adam Ruins Everything) make such a solid point that I think we should spread far and wide. Yes, having AI write your emails is lazy, sure, but people love being lazy. We need to really emphasize that sending AI emails (or using AI responses on social media, or publishing AI flyers, or or or) is rude.
It's rude. You're making someone take their time to read something you couldn't bother to write. You're telling them they were so unimportant you couldn't be bothered to actually take the time to say something yourself. And frankly, you're lying about it while you're at it.
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Character Movements — When They’re in Love (and Probably Don’t Want to Admit It)
Love doesn’t just blush and flutter. It aches. It stumbles. It leaks through the cracks, even when a character is trying to play it cool. Here’s what love looks like when it’s happening in the body before the character’s brave enough to say it.
╰ They lean in—and don’t realize it.
It’s instinct. Subconscious. Like their body is quietly screaming, closer. A slow drift during conversation. A head tilted slightly too far. A step forward they don’t take back.
╰ They can’t quite make eye contact—but they can’t stop looking.
They glance. Look away. Glance again. Maybe their gaze drops to the mouth. Maybe it hovers on the hands. Eye contact is too dangerous, it sees too much, but looking away entirely? Impossible.
╰ They fidget in specific, revealing ways.
Tugging sleeves. Adjusting jewelry. Touching their mouth when the other person talks. These aren’t nervous tics, they’re little release valves for all the don’t-say-it-don’t-feel-it energy.
╰ They mirror the other person.
Their gestures sync. Their laughs overlap. They cross their arms a beat after the other person does, and don’t even notice. Their body’s doing the bonding for them.
╰ They hover instead of touching.
The space between two people in love-but-not-there-yet is holy. Brushing hands. Shared drinks. Standing so close their shoulders almost touch, but never quite. Like if they make contact, it’s game over.