For The Discworld Designs Series, The Witches Of Lancre

For the Discworld designs series, the witches of Lancre

part 1/2

part 2 here

gale dw imma kill ur ex for u

song: two by sleeping at last

if anyone was wondering how my read of the liveship trader series is going… it’s… uh going

Portrait of a Dead Girl- a post-Trespasser angst filled Solavellan fic

Portrait of a Dead Girl (2076 words) by CrabsWithSticks Chapters: 1/9 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan & Dorian Pavus Characters: Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Charter (Dragon Age), Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Dissociation, Bad Parenting, because of aforementioned trauma, Mental Health Issues, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Pining, i guess?, Solas and Lavellan are both still in love and miss each other, Enemies and Lovers, But they don't want to be enemies, Flashbacks, Both Kinds Summary: 4 years after the events of Trespasser, Lavellan is not doing well. She is continuing to try to stop Solas, but is slowly killing herself in the process as she pushes herself forwards so she never had to look back at all she has lost. Lavellan arrives at the Pavus Estate to begin a dangerous mission that will have her facing the ghosts of her past.

And I wish that you had given me the courtesy, Of ripping out my throat. And I wish that I let you have the dignity, Of letting me go. -Portrait of a Dead Girl by The Last Dinner Party

9:48 Dragon, 4 years post-trespasser Ghilara Lavellan pulled the hood of her oilskin cloak off her head as she entered through the back entrance to the Pavus estate. The cool air hit her, causing shivers to run down her spine and the nub of her arm to tickle with pins and needles. She was glad to be here at last. She had been travelling on foot for just over a week now, the operation that was being planned was extremely important and extremely secret, so the last thing it needed was word of the Inquisitor, blessed fucking Herald of Andraste showing up. And while a week on foot, an anonymous traveller among many on the road was good for subtlety, it was not good for her joints, which creaked, a dull and constant pain. She had passed her fourth decade a few months ago, as her body was always desperately keen to remind her. It was also not good for her shoulders which ached from the weight of the pack, and she was sure there would be sores from where the straps had rubbed against her skin, even through her clothing. Having nobody with her to watch her back also made her paranoid after half a decade or so of assassination attempts. So she had slept poorly and lightly, camping off the side of the road where possible, watching for danger. Hard to believe 5 years ago I was gallivanting across Thedas, now look at me. Old, sore, and tired. I swear my knees didn’t use to be this bad. She supposed she had had a horse then, and at least Solas had- No. She took a deep breath in, and on the exhale let all the emotions trickle out of her, leaving her empty and half a step back from her body. There was too much to do right now to get caught up in, well, that. She ran through the list of what she would need to get done before she headed out. She would need to check inventory. She had to carry more healing potions now that she didn’t have a spirit healer with her since Sol- No! She would have to check her potion stash to stock up on healing potions. And they’d have a war council as well to go over the plan for the mission. If she had her dates right it should be this evening. And that meant Cassandra would expect her to be at least semi-presentable. She’d probably be getting a scolding from the two ex-templars anyway over something she had done wrong. Then she would need to check over the chosen agents, make sure they were up to standard. Hopefully Charter had made it. She couldn’t be the only elf there or she would probably go insane.

Read the rest here!

I low-key love the fact that sci-fi has so conditioned us to expect to be hanging out with a bunch of cool space aliens, that legitimate, actual scientists keep proposing the most bizarre, three-blunts-into-the-rotation "theories" to explain the fact we're not.

Some of my favourites include:

Zoo Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they're not talking to us because of the Prime Directive from Star Trek? (Or because they're doing experiments on us???)

Dark Forest Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they all hate us and each other so they're all just waiting with a shotgun pointed at the door, ready to open fire on anything that moves?

Planetarium Theory: What if there's at least one alien with mastery over light and matter that's just making it seem to us that the universe is empty to us as, like, a joke?

Berserker Theory: What if there were loads of aliens, but one of them made infinite killer robots that murdered everyone and are coming for us next?!!

Like, the universe is at least 13,700,000,000 years old and 46,000,000,000 light years big. We have had the ability to transmit and receive signals for, what, 100 years, and our signals have so far travelled 200 light years?

The fact is biological life almost certainly has, does, or will develop elsewhere in the universe, and it's not impossible that a tiny amount of it has, does, or will develop in a way that we would understand as "intelligent". But, like, we're realistically never going to know because of the scale of the things involved.

So I'm proposing my own hypothesis. I call it the "Fool in a Field" hypothesis. It goes like this:

Humanity is a guy standing in the middle of a field at midnight. It's pitch black, he can't move, and he's been standing there for ages. He's just had the thought to swing his arms. He swings one of his arms, once, and does not hit another person. "Oh no!" He says. "Robots have killed them all!"