the dormition

religious types, but this would kick ass

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enthusiasticconsentacles https://enthusiasticconsentacles.tumblr.com/post/659173787445624832/the-dormition :

bomberqueen17 https://bomberqueen17.tumblr.com/post/659161766259982336/the-dormition:

ok so pre-emptive apologies to all Orthodox peeps reading this because it is based on a very breezy understanding of your theology and i firstly want to say no real disrespect is intended.

anyway so i asked Veg Guy what the current fast is for and he said it’s the Dormition, and he was explaining this in a loud room so I didn’t totally get the whole thing but the gist was that it’s in honor of the Virgin Mary, and she of course being divine as she is did not die at the end of her mortal life, but she went to sleep, culminating in the Transfiguration. I know that’s a Catholic joint too so I really ought to know more about it but I don’t, and haven’t looked it up even though I easily could.

So I mentioned this on a Zoom hangout last night with some crafting buddies, and somehow we ran with this concept without looking any of it up because why would anyone look any of this up.

And we arrived at this notion that the Virgin Mary is kind of like King Arthur, where she’s gone to some slumber but will awaken in humanity’s time of need.

you see where this is going

“MOM’S BACK… AND SHE’S PISSED” etc etc

Somehow this got conflated with the annual Yosemite Fattest Bear competition. Possibly because of a connection to hibernation. I don’t know. Again, I say all of this with all the due reverence for our divine mother’s holiness and all; I was raised Catholic and have a thoroughgoing and genuine love for the Ol’ Lady, but as a part of this I have absolutely no problem visualizing her as either being a large angry bear herself, or riding upon one to wreak her protective vengeance on behalf of her downtrodden Children.

Anyway. There’s my weird personal consolation about the climate problem. In the hour of our greatest need, Mary will rise from her divine slumber and fuck up oil executives with a giant bear.

Please?

So this is what jumped into my head after reading the post.

YES I thought of that gwent card art (is it gwent or is it a book illustration? i know it’s the beauty and the beast story from one of the Witcher short story collections) but no one else on this Zoom was a Witcher person nor were they Tumblr peeps (anymore) so I figured it wouldn’t really be likely to make any sense at all, so I let it go, but

yeah pretty much (Your picture was not posted)

(no subject)

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welcome to sasveth hell, we have no fucking fics

in terms of first meetings, there’s She found the Fox caught by dogs https://fanfiction.net/s/9303449/1/She-found-the-Fox-caught-by-dogs, and chapter 9 of To Serve, To Survive https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578428 has one too. there’s also a first meeting buried in chapters 61-62 of this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/24213775/chapters/58336840 but I did not actually like this one. …that’s it! that’s all of ’em! this is not an endorsement of any of these fics, this is just… basically all of the ones that exist.

in terms of hcs this happens to be something i have not thought very much about—they could have just happened to be in the same part of nowhere-in-particular at the same time, or there could have been something else going on that ended up bringing them together the first time, either is plausible. i am a little partial to Sassy saving his ass, but I don’t have like. specific scenarios worked out

what i DO have is a lot of thoughts about the trajectory of their pre-canon relationship and some thoughts on the timeline of their meeting, so! uh!! sasveth thots under the cut!!!

Keep reading https://laurelnose.tumblr.com/post/659274774380429312/i-am-seized-with-a-desire-to-read-tales-of-iorveth (Your picture was not posted)

gorejock:“They asked me to tell you what it was li

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gorejock http://gorejock.tumblr.com/post/182286847453/they-asked-me-to-tell-you-what-it-was-like-to-be :

“They asked me to tell you what it was like to be twenty and pregnant in 1950 and when you tell your boyfriend you’re pregnant, he tells you about a friend of his in the army whose girl told him she was pregnant, so he got all his buddies to come and say, “We all fucked her, so who knows who the father is?” And he laughs at the good joke…. What was it like, if you were planning to go to graduate school and get a degree and earn a living so you could support yourself and do the work you loved—what it was like to be a senior at Radcliffe and pregnant and if you bore this child, this child which the law demanded you bear and would then call “unlawful,” “illegitimate,” this child whose father denied it … What was it like? […] It’s like this: if I had dropped out of college, thrown away my education, depended on my parents … if I had done all that, which is what the anti-abortion people want me to have done, I would have borne a child for them, … the authorities, the theorists, the fundamentalists; I would have born a child for them, their child. But I would not have born my own first child, or second child, or third child. My children. The life of that fetus would have prevented, would have aborted, three other fetuses … the three wanted children, the three I had with my husband—whom, if I had not aborted the unwanted one, I would never have met … I would have been an “unwed mother” of a three-year-old in California, without work, with half an education, living off her parents…. But it is the children I have to come back to, my children Elisabeth, Caroline, Theodore, my joy, my pride, my loves. If I had not broken the law and aborted that life nobody wanted, they would have been aborted by a cruel, bigoted, and senseless law. They would never have been born. This thought I cannot bear. What was it like, in the Dark Ages when abortion was a crime, for the girl whose dad couldn’t borrow cash, as my dad could? What was it like for the girl who couldn’t even tell her dad, because he would go crazy with shame and rage? Who couldn’t tell her mother? Who had to go alone to that filthy room and put herself body and soul into the hands of a professional criminal? – because that is what every doctor who did an abortion was, whether he was an extortionist or an idealist. You know what it was like for her. You know and I know; that is why we are here. We are not going back to the Dark Ages. We are not going to let anybody in this country have that kind of power over any girl or woman. There are great powers, outside the government and in it, trying to legislate the return of darkness. We are not great powers. But we are the light. Nobody can put us out. May all of you shine very bright and steady, today and always.”

— Ursula K. Le Guin (via nightkitchentarot https://nightkitchentarot.tumblr.com/) (Your picture was not posted)

well, shit

isn't great at telepathy yet, yes yes i'm writing this now, along with all the other things on the list

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laurelnose https://tmblr.co/mq54LIcK9Ujftei-4qS_V9A, i blame you. also this is the only way i know how to send you a thing, lol.

So it was only Iorveth, and implacable Nature, and the sun in the trees, and his rising fever and growing weakness.

And this dragon. He blinked in some surprise; he hadn’t expected a dragon. Or a– slyzard or whatever this was. Forktail. It didn’t look like any of the creatures he was used to. It was a pale greenish color, dull and unprepossessing, with large golden eyes, and it was rather large. It had popped its head over the edge of the little nest Iorveth had made himself in the crotch of this tree, and was looking at him with first one of its eyes, then the other.

“Oh,” Iorveth said. “I suppose this might as well happen.”

The dragon sniffed delicately at him. He did not want to be eaten. But, dying of thirst wasn’t very interesting. He might as well nourish some creature on his way out, something larger than the slugs and snails that would eat his body if he died here. Well, probably rats would find him, or something. Less glamorous than a dragon. Or– or whatever this is.

“Are you a wyvern?” he asked blearily. “Or maybe a– what’s the other one called?”

The dragon pulled back somewhat, and then looked at him with its other eye. It hadn’t eaten him yet. Possibly it was figuring out if he were armed.

“I’m just going to tell myself you’re a dragon,” he told it. His voice wasn’t worth much, parched as he was, more a croak than anything else. “That’s much more interesting than any of the other creatures you could be. I’m dying anyway, I might as well tell myself a nice fairy story on the way out.”

The dragon’s head withdrew, and there was an odd flicker of light that didn’t make sense given the position of the sun and the absence of any large reflective surfaces. Iorveth drifted off again. Possibly he’d hallucinated the thing. He looked at the leaves, and then closed his eyes.

“Are you really dying?” a voice asked.

He blinked. “What?” A face popped over the edge of his little nest. It was a– woman, or girl, or– a child, possibly, he couldn’t tell how old. A dh’oine, though, blonde and blue-eyed and round-cheeked with youth. Fuck. He’d have been alarmed to see a dh’oine child, if he could feel much alarm.

“You just said you were dying anyway,” she said. Not a little kid, he thought. But then, he didn’t know how dh’oine worked. She hooked her elbows over the edge of the nest. “Are you really?”

“Did I say that?” he wondered. They were speaking dh’oine speech now. Surely he’d been speaking Hen Llinge before, how would a little dh’oine-let have known what he was saying? Had he said that? Who’d he been speaking to? Oh, the dragon. “Wait, was there just–” A dragon there? What a mad thing to ask. “Uh.”

“What’s killing you?” she asked. “That wound? Is it infected?” She looked solemn, biting her lip. “I bet I can help.”

“Water,” he said. “I’m dying of thirst. I ran out of water and I’m too weak to go get more.” He produced his empty drinking gourd, and she took it and investigated it as if she’d never seen such a thing before.

“If I get water will you live?” she asked.

He laughed. “No guarantees, little friend,” he said. “Fever’s pretty bad too, and I ran out of food before I ran out of water.”

She looked up from the gourd. “Out of food,” she said. “Why– what do you eat?”

“Same things you do,” he said.

“I doubt that,” she said. (Your picture was not posted)